


Advent

by Subtilior



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angst, Childhood, Christian Holidays, Coming of Age, F/M, Magic, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtilior/pseuds/Subtilior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One December when he is young, Toby gets a present in the mail. The next year he gets another. Then Sarah puts a stop to the gifts - and though Toby doesn't realize it, their lives will be changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2010 Winterfest (at [Labyfic](www.labyfic.livejournal.com).) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Labyrinth, Toby, Sarah, Jareth, and/or anything else belonging to Jim Henson.
> 
> With all thanks to **knifeedgefic** for the super-speedy beta, and, as well, to **lightup_tea** and **imbrium8** , all at livejournal, for their feedback.

I have always kept certain old traditions on Christmas Eve. Hospitality is one of them. If you were to travel through the wind and snow on December twenty-four, and knock on the door, I would welcome you. Of course, I hope that you would not mind if I have other, more homely traditions to keep as well. For instance – you might smile to see me preparing a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Then you might rush to help me carry the rocking chair. I'm getting old, you see. Older every year.

But then, if you are observant, you might wonder why you're helping carry the rocking chair upstairs, far from the fireplace, far from the tree with its sparkling lights. You might wonder why I've set down the cookies and milk on a rickety old table, in a child's room – and why I sit my own old self down in the rocking chair there, of all places. Why I give all the signs of being settled for the night, rocking back and forth, looking at a blank white wall.

You might think that I've gone a bit senile, and tiptoe out to let me sleep.

Or you might take a cookie for yourself, sit down across from me, and ask me why I sit in this room of all rooms, on this night, of all nights.

I used to be a storyteller – probably the best, in my muddle of a family. But I'll let someone else tell you this story. He was a little boy – perhaps just like your own younger brother, if you have one. Blond and blue-eyed, with a fine mind and a sense of fun, and more mischief in him than manners.

His family loved him and he loved them. This room, once upon a time, was his.


	2. I

The first one came the year I started school. It came in the mail. It had a big white envelope and a pretty stamp.

Mom opened it. She said it was an Advent Calendar, and really pretty! I said it was mine, and she said OK. It had doors that opened and shut. We opened a door that night, and it had chocolate in it! It was all mine, because Sarah had gone to College, and so I didn't have to share.

It was really good chocolate, too.

So I had to brush my teeth really hard that night, and when I had brushed my teeth, I went to bed. When I was in bed, I fell asleep but then I woke up, because Santa was there! He came through a door that was like Mom's pretty necklace that is an oyster which you eat. The door was in the wall, like magic, and it was all colors and sparkly. Then he opened the door and walked into my room and smiled at me.

I wondered who he could be. He looked like an elf, and not Santa. I was confused. "Who are you?"

"Cannot I be your Saint Nicholas, my fine young friend?"

I didn't know who  _that_ was, so I thought really hard. Christmas was not for a really long time. I still had to go to school! And then I looked really close at Maybe Elf or Maybe Not Santa. Then I knew why he was NOT Santa! So I told him.

I pointed my finger and said, "You're not Santa!"

"Really?" He blinked. "Why not?"

"You're too skinny!"

He looked down, and poked a finger in his tummy. He looked so sad that I laughed. Then he looked back up, and laughed too.

"I am so very pleased to see you, young sir!" he said.

"Really?"

"Really and truly!" Then he smiled really big. "And these are pleased to see you, too!"

He  _fwooshed_  open both sides of his cape, and a lot of funny little monsters ran out! They were laughing and squeaking and jumping up and down. Some of them climbed up onto my bed and nipped at my fingers.

"Hey!" I yelled. "That hurt!"

"Now that is quite enough," said Not Santa. "If you are so very hungry, we shall dine in the Castle. Come along."

He pointed at the door, and all the monsters ran to it. Some of them fell over each other, and it was funny. And I said, "Do you have to go?"

"Yes," he said. Then he smiled at me. "Would you like to come along?"

I really wanted to! But then I remembered that Mom had said not to go with strangers. "You're a stranger," I told him.

"Ah ..." He looked a little sad. "I'm actually not. You see, I knew you, when you were a baby – and I sent you a present this year."

"You sent me the chocolate paper in the mail? With the doors on it?" I bounced up and down on the bed.

"Hours and minutes and weeks and days – true time confined to a tatty piece of cardboard." He smiled again. "A lovely little thing. Yes. And I remember you, Toby, even if you don't remember me. Now, will you come along?" He held out his hand. "The goblins have missed you."

He knew my name, just like Mom. So I took his hand. "O.K."

We went through the door, and then we went to a big party. The goblins were really funny there! They had lots of food; even a pig with an apple in its mouth. I had three kinds of cake and a piece of pie.

I went home and then I had more school the next morning. Then there was Christmas. Then I had MORE school, and I told a story in the spring for Story Telling. My teacher liked it a lot. She wrote it down for me, and we put it in a contest and it won!

Mom was really happy. She told all the cousins. She put the front page of my story in glass, and put the glass on the wall of my room.

My story was called "The Goblin Christmas Party."

Sarah came home for Thanksgiving the next year. When she saw the glass, she got really, really mad. I don't know why.

* * *

That year, another present came in the mail, with the same big envelope, addressed to: "Tobias R. Williams, Esq." I could read it, except I didn't know what an Esq was, but I asked Mom if I could keep the calendar in my room this year, and she said O.K.

This one was just as pretty as the first. I liked touching the glitter on it, and looking at all the little doors. There was one, covered in paint like Mom's necklace, all shiny and many colors and bright. It had a number on it. When I opened it when its number came, I saw a picture of me, and the goblins, and Not a Stranger. The other open doors had really cool pictures of people, and trees and animals all weird. I liked the man with antlers, and the lion with wings, but I liked the picture of me the best.

The rest of the doors had to stay closed until their numbers came. Sometimes it was funny because the numbers kept moving around. I liked thinking about the pictures, though. I wondered which door would be next, every day.

Then Sarah came home for Christmas break from College. Last year, she had gone to her boyfriend's house. And when she was still in high school she went to her Linda Mom's house. She was not here that much because her and Mom sometimes fight, is why.

I was happy to see her. I showed her all of my school stuff. She said it was all cool, and showed me some of her books, but they were way too heavy for me.

The second magic door happened when Sarah was home. That's why when Not a Stranger came through the door all red and gold, and the goblins came too, I said, "Shhhhh!"

He jumped, and said, "Shh-hhh!" to all the goblins, and they got really quiet. Then he looked at me and bounced his eyebrows. "Why are we shhhh-ing, old man?"

That was funny, because he's old and I'm not. I whispered, "Sarah is sleeping right next door, and we don't want to wake her up."

The goblins got really really quiet.

"Sarah is here?" Not a Stranger said, just as quiet.

"She's my big sister, and she gets really cranky if she doesn't sleep and if she doesn't have her coffee."

"Coffee?" he whispered, and winked. Then he did that thing that's SO cool, with magic going  _fwish fwish fwish_ sort of like sparkly baseballs in his hands. Then he had a really big cup of coffee. He pretended to drink from it – his eyes crossed and it was so funny that I laughed.

"Quiet!" he said – but then he dropped the cup by accident! And it smashed on the floor!

"Oh no!" I forgot my Inside Voice. "She's going to kill me!"

"I do not think she will," Not a Stranger said, and he  _fwish fwish fwish_ magic'd all the broken cup off the floor, which was really cool.

But then I heard –  _wham! wham! wham!_  - at the door.

"Toby!" Sarah yelled. "Toby, let me in! Unlock this door!"

I didn't know how to lock or unlock doors, so I pointed at Not a Stranger. "Did you lock the door?"

He slapped his head. "Mercy me, I forgot! You had better unlock it, old man."

"Locking the door is Against the Rules," I said, but I went over and grabbed the knob. "How?"

"Just turn it," Not a Stranger said, really quiet again. It was hard to hear him when Sarah was  _wham! wham! wham!_ knocking on the other side.

I turned the knob, the lock went –  _pop!_ \- and the door opened. There was Sarah in her nightgown. She looked past me and her face turned all weird. I saw she had my bat.

"Are we going to play baseball?" I said, because I thought that would be super fun, with goblins.

Sarah grabbed my arm and stepped in front of me. I couldn't see any more. "Toby," she said really loud, "go to my room."

"No! I want to play with the goblins!" I said.

"Get in there NOW!" she yelled, and pushed me into the hall. The door to my room slammed shut, and  _-click-_  went the lock from inside, which was Against the Rules and also MEAN. I knocked on the door but nobody would open it.

" _You!_ " I heard Sarah yell through the door, but also through the wall and the heating vent. So I went over there to listen. I only heard bits and pieces, because of the heater.

"- call the  _police_ , by now -"

"You can scream to wake the dead, and nobody will hear you -"

\- and then  _clank, clank, clank_  went the heater.

It stopped, so I listened again when Not a Stranger laughed.

"But he is such a fine lad, your brother – why should I not?"

"I'm telling you –"

 _Clank, clank, clank,_ again. When it stopped, and I listened some more, they were talking too quiet. So I opened the vent all the way and smooshed my ear against it, and listened really hard.

"Jareth – I want you to promise me."

"Ah, yes, but what about what  _I_ want?"

" _Promise_  me!"

Then it was quiet, and the last thing I heard was:

"I make bargains, not promises, Sarah …"

And then it was too quiet to hear.

I was really tired, so I went to sleep on Sarah's bed. When I woke up, it was still dark. Sarah was on one side of the bed, sitting quiet and still.

"Sarah?" I said.

"Hey, Toby," she said, and she sounded all snuffly.

"Can we play now?"

"No, honey." She picked me up. "It's time to sleep again. You won't have any more bad dreams – I promise."

"Please please pleeeeeeease," but she carried me to my bed.

"Oof – you are one heavy first-grader." She set me down. I was looking around, though. It was all dark.

"Where'd he go?"

Sarah sniffed in breath, really loud. "Who?"

"Not a Stranger!" I sat up in bed. "He came through the door, just like last year. He always comes through doors."

"Doors -  _doors_ – how  _many_ are there, Toby?"

"They're on here." I took my calendar from under my pillow, where Mom said I could keep it. "Turn on the light."

Sarah turned on the light.

I looked at all the pretty colors, and the glitter. "First it was the really shiny one," I pointed, "and this year, it was red." I opened the red door, and there was a tiny picture, of Not a Stranger and Sarah standing across from each other, and me in the middle. "See?"

I looked up, and jumped a little, because Sarah looked scary. She was white in the face, like a ghost for Halloween.

"Toby," she whispered, "where did you get this?"

"It came in the mail. Just like last year."

"The mail – that mother-" and then Sarah said a really bad word, and I was about to tell her she had to put a quarter in Dad's swear jar, but then she grabbed the calendar and ran!

"Wait!" I ran after her. I ran down the stairs, but halfway down I slipped and fell.

It hurt a lot.

At the bottom I got up. My head hurt really bad, but I walked after Sarah.

She was standing at the front door, which was open. The wind was blowing really really cold with snow coming inside the house. I only saw Sarah's nightgown, and her long hair going round and round.

"Give it back!" It hurt to say it.

"It's gone," Sarah said. "The wind took it away."

"What?" I swallowed another hurt. "It's my present! You can't do that!"

"I just did." And she turned to look at me, and the snow was white and the light was blue, and she looked like a scary Halloween ghost who was also an evil witch. "And you will  _never_ get a present like that again."

I couldn't swallow any more, and I started to cry. Then I couldn't stand up any more because of my head, so I sat down and cried really hard.

Then I heard feet coming down the stairs. "Sarah?" Mom said, "Why is the door open?" And then she turned on a light, and screamed.

"Toby! Toby!"

Dad ran downstairs, and touched my head, saying, "Toby! Toby!"

"I think he was sleepwalking – I heard him fall," I heard Sarah say, but Mom was calling on the phone and then I had to go to the hospital.

When I got out of the hospital, I had to stay in bed for a while. Dad took me downstairs for presents on Christmas. I wouldn't open the present Sarah gave to me. Sarah was really quiet, quieter even than she had been when Merlin died, and Mom looked mad, and nobody said anything.

When the snow melted in the spring, I looked all through the front yard for the calendar. I didn't see it anywhere. Then I looked for where I had put last year's, in the closet, and I didn't see that one either.

It made me cry. But I did that in my room, because at school Jason who played soccer called me a wimp when I cried to the teacher about my calendar, and he pushed me down on the playground. My mom got really mad and called his mom, and then nobody talked to me at school.

But I hoped next year things would be good again.

* * *

I started second grade and things did not get better. Jason was still mean. And then things were really sad, because I didn't get a calendar. Sarah came home for Christmas, but it wasn't much fun. She and Mom didn't talk a lot.

I did get a new book, which was: Myths and Folktales of the World. The drawings were cool. I saw the man with antlers, and I remembered him from the calendar. I thought that maybe Not a Stranger was like Santa, a bit, so I whispered to him through the heating vent, that I would be really good if he would send me a calendar next year.

* * *

I went to third grade, and got in the highest reading group. I also tried to be really good. That didn't really help at school, but I didn't care what Jason and all his friends did, as long as I got a calendar.

So when I didn't get one, I felt really bad again. I started eating a lot, trying to fill up the empty feeling inside. I sneaked cookies from the container when Mom wasn't looking, and took slices of bread from the breadbox. Some days I had a stomach ache, but other days I could lie on my bed, full, and try to dream about what the goblins would be doing for their party.

Sarah came home for Christmas. It really wasn't that fun. She wanted to take me to the movies, but Mom said she couldn't. Then they had a fight, so I went to my room, and read my favorite books again.

* * *

Then came fourth grade. I got braces, and Mom took me to the doctor, who shook his head and said I needed to stop eating so much. Gym was not good at school, either. Some nights, I got up and heard Mom and Dad talking about me, and they sounded worried.

They took me to another doctor, who was a doctor for inside your head. She did a puzzle with me and asked me about my favorite books and things to do. She was nice to talk to. When she asked me why I ate lots of cookies and those things, I said that I was sad. But when she asked me why I was sad, I had to think a bit.

School wasn't fun, and I didn't like people fighting at home – but what made me sad the most was not getting a calendar, for two years now. Which was kind of a little-kid thing to be sad about.

I mean, the guy I used to call Not a Stranger – a kind of little-kid name – was getting harder to remember. Some days I was pretty sure he had been a dream. The story I wrote in kindergarten was framed on the wall, but that could have been a dream, too. And I thought that if I told the doctor that I was sad because my made-up friend didn't send me presents anymore, then she'd think I was crazy.

But I didn't want to lie.

So I told the head doctor that I had been sad since the time it had hurt so much – the time when my sister took my favorite present away. She went kind of still, and asked me about the present. I told her about the calendar. I told her what I remembered, about Sarah shoving me into the hallway, and me looking up at her at the front door. It was all kind of fuzzy, in my memory. I told her about everything but the imaginary guy, and all of those goblins.

She made lots of notes, and said thank-you at the end. Then she suggested that I make my own Advent calendar, this year. That actually sounded kind of fun, so when I went home, I started on it. I had only about a month, because I wanted to open the doors beginning on December first, like I had done before.

I was working on coloring day thirteen – I had drew a guy with antlers coming out of his head, which was one of my favorite stories in  _Myths and Folktales_  of the World – and I heard the phone ring. Mom picked it up, and said, "Sarah," in that voice that is kind of like grey might be, if it was a voice. They talked a while. I concentrated on the drawing.

Then Mom started yelling, "Absolutely not. You may  _not_ talk to him." And then, "Your father isn't here. Besides, he would agree with me."

I wondered what was going on, so I walked down the stairs really quietly – and carefully, because I don't like them that much. The stairs, I mean. I listened to Mom.

And I heard her say: "You want to know what I think? You  _want_  to know? I think you  _pushed_  him, that night three years ago, and I will cut off my own hand if I  _ever_  let you speak to him again!" And she slammed down the phone.

I went back upstairs. I didn't really feel like coloring anymore.

When I asked Mom whether Sarah would be coming for Christmas, she said no. Dad just looked grouchy. I didn't finish the calendar.

* * *

Fifth grade sucked, and Dad gave up on the swear jar, so I said whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. (But usually really quietly.) Dad worked really late. Mom kept looking upset, even if I brought home good grades from school. I really wanted a dog, or a cat, but they said no.

The calendar that I started last year I put under my bed. I took it out, once, and did some more of the drawings … but I didn't want to look at it anymore, so I put it back. Christmas was the same as usual. Sarah didn't come home. And then the next year went on, and fifth grade kept going.

Some days I didn't want to get out of bed.

* * *

I thought it couldn't get worse than the past year, but middle school made me think differently. When it got too bad, this past fall, I'd go to my room and read all my favorite books, although a read-through took longer and longer, because I had a lot more of them.

This fall, though … Ugh. They called me Williams the Whale, and laughed at me every day. And there were a lot more people, in middle school, to laugh.

When school got out for Christmas break, I went upstairs to sit in my room. I felt so sad, like I thought I could just melt and be a cold puddle on the floor. Then I sat on the floor, and I looked under the bed. I saw my old Advent calendar.

I don't know what made me do it, but I pulled it out. I went to my desk (it was in Sarah's room, but I asked for it to be put in mine) and cleared off a space. Then I took a black pen, and drew the last day – number 24. I've looked at these calendars in stores, and I knew that the last one is always Mary and the baby. We've never really gone to church, but I was saying something to myself, while drawing. I drew and colored, and I said inside: _Please._

I checked all the pictures. Some looked better than others. I colored the winter witch, and the deer-man, and the picture of all the goblins. All the time I said:  _Please. Please. Please._  
  
I colored Mary and the baby. Then I picked up the calendar, and sat on the floor. I couldn't see the drawings, because there was no more light from the windows. Or maybe it was because I was crying, and I knew it was a baby thing to do, but I couldn't help it.

"Please," I said. "Please –  _please_ – if you're real, could you please come back? I don't know who you are, or if you were a dream or not – but if you can hear me, I want you to come back – please come back.  _Please_  – please make everything O.K. again." The words tumbled over each other. I closed my eyes tight, and shuddered, crying.

"Please come back.  _Please,_  whoever you are – I wish you were here again. I wish I could talk to you. Please – please, I –"

And then I heard a quiet sound.

I opened my eyes.

There, in the darkness of my room, I saw something. It was a golden spark. The spark zipped around a bit – back and forth – and then fell to the floor, leaving a trail of glittering light. Then there was another, and it left a trail, and another, and more and more, all silver and gold.

They formed a high rectangle of light – shaped like a door – my heart thudded inside, a weird thump – and the door filled in with a wash of starry blue, like water running down a window.

It was a door – like the magical doors I remembered. It was real.

I couldn't believe it. Even when the door opened, and – he – Not-a-Stranger or Not Santa or whatever I had called him – appeared, with sparks of light swirling around him for a cloak – even then, I couldn't believe it. I thought I would wake up. I thought it was a dream.

"Toby!" he said, and he held out his arms. "I am so very pleased to see you!"

That was the best part: that it wasn't a dream. It was real –  _he_  was real – and he had not gone away forever.

All this time, he had been waiting to come back.


	3. II

I couldn't get over it – he was  _real_ and right here in my room.

"Um. Hi," I said, peering up at him. I was a little nervous.

He smiled at me, and swept down his outstretched arms as he bowed. The cape of light did this really cool flash, and I knew my mouth had dropped open, but I couldn't help it.

"My greetings to you, Tobias Williams," he said. He sounded just like I remembered.

"Yeah – hi. So …" and I wobbled to my feet, from the floor, grabbing my Advent calendar as I did. "I guess you need one of these to get here?"

"This?" He took the calendar and smiled down at it. "Well this is quite nicely done. But to answer your question: no. All I need is a wish, occasionally – but more importantly, a door."

"That door was really cool," I stuttered.

His eyes crinkled up at the corners. "I do try. But what I mean is that I know I have another door, now." He reached out one hand, and tapped a finger in the middle of my forehead. He was wearing gloves. "Right here."

I didn't really get it, but I wanted to show him I was smart, so I nodded.

"Well then!" He rocked back on one heel, and tossed his head, and man, I had forgotten about that hair. It was seriously epic. "Here I am, young Toby – you wished for me, and I have come. What may I do for you?"

It hit me, then: I had so many questions. So much to ask, that I didn't know. I blurted the first thing that came to my mind.

"When I went to see all the goblins – was that real?"

"Of course."

I gulped. "So I didn't imagine it all? It's another  _world_ , like in  _Lord of the Rings_  or something?"

"Hm. Slightly different, in a few key ways." He scooped up some of the light from his cloak – seriously, it was  _awesome_  – and began pouring it from hand to gloved hand. "But the principle is the same."

"And … it's real?"

He dropped the light – it flickered all around the room and fizzled in the corners. "Yes. It is as real as I am!"

"But – who are you?"

The light grew in brightness, until I had to squint.

"I?" he said. "I am the Goblin King, Lord of the Labyrinth, and King of Dreams."

"Oh." I knew my voice sounded small.

The light dimmed, and I saw him smiling, kindly. "You, Toby, may call me Jareth."

That name – I knew I remembered it from somewhere. But then the memory slipped away, like an echo, and it was gone.

That light trick had been pretty freaky, though, so I wanted to show him I wasn't afraid. "Can I call you Jerry?"

"Absolutely not," he said. "I spent two hundred years stuffed in a lamp to obtain my illustrious name, and I rather insist upon your using it."

"Wow. That sounds serious."

"It was." He – Jareth, I guess – smiled again. "But enough of this. What may I do for you, Toby?"

There were so many things I wanted to ask. So many things I wanted to do … So I fixed upon one thing that I knew would make me happy. Or, at least, I hoped it would.

"I'd like to see it again," I said, quietly. "Please. Wherever you come from –"

"The Labyrinth."

"Yeah. That. I remember going there, and even though it was such a long time ago, and only once …" I gulped. "I had a lot of fun. It – it made me happy."

"Hm." Jareth tipped his head to look at me, considering. "And I think, venturing a guess, that you have not been happy for some time, now. Is it so?"

I couldn't reply. Instead, I nodded, looking at my shoes.

"Well. Come along, and you can tell me all about it."

I looked back up. He was holding out his hand.

And that memory was there, like it had been yesterday. He had stood in front of a door of light, holding out his hand. I had taken it, and had traveled to see – the Labyrinth, I guess it was, even then.

He had his head to one side, and he was staring at me, serious. Somehow, there was wind blowing through the door – it was hot, and smelled like sand.

All of a sudden, I thought of Sarah.

Maybe it was a memory of the wind; maybe it was the way it gusted through his hair. Maybe it was how the light was like diamonds and his cloak was like gold, and how he looked like a hero or a god from my mythology book.

Whatever it was, it made me think of Sarah. I didn't know why. But maybe I could ask him – Jareth – I corrected myself – for advice. On how to make us all a family again.

"Well?" Jareth said. "Will you come?"

"Sure," I said, and took his hand.

* * *

After that visit, things got a lot better. It was the memories that made it better, you know?

If it was dark and raining outside, I remembered the sun in the Labyrinth. If I fell off the balance beam in gym, I remembered that I could balance just fine on a lot of the Labyrinth's walls.

And if people at school were mean, I made them look like goblins, in my mind. I didn't turn them into goblins or anything – Jareth had said he sometimes did, but then he laughed a lot, so I assumed it was a joke.

It wasn't as funny as it might have been, though – because those goblins had been a bit freaky. I mean, they were a lot bigger than I remembered –especially when they danced. When we left, I had asked Jareth, "Could we see more animals, next time?" He said we could.

We had talked about a lot of things. It was great. Jareth was glad that I liked fairy tales and myths, and he made a crystal turn into an awesome book he said was from his library. He was interested in all of the stuff at school, and gave me advice. "They are beneath you," he said. "You are now a Prince of the Labyrinth, and you must ignore all the plebians. If you can't feed them to the wolves, that is."

I had to look up plebians when I got home, and I knew he was joking about the wolves – but the principle was the same, I guess. So I came up with the idea to make the jerks look like goblins.

He even gave me advice about Mom and Dad, and Sarah. "You should always try to tell the truth, Toby," and I could tell he liked the way it sounded. "Try to tell the truth," he said, spitting out the T's. "You think your father works too much – tell him so. You want your mother to frown less – ask her what makes her frown. And you say this Sarah – the name is Sarah, is it not? – she is not allowed back in your home?" I nodded; he shook his head, regretful. "If your own untruth-telling has made it so, then you must tell the truth again. To both your parents."

"Well," I said, "I haven't really seen her in a while."

"Nor had you seen me in a while," he laughed. "And haven't we had a time of it?"

We really did have a good time. I felt like crying when he said that the morning was coming, and we had to go back. "Take heart, Toby," Jareth said to me, back in my room, stooping so he could look me in the eyes, "Remember, next year: I will come back to you." He raised one eyebrow. "Calendar or no calendar."

"About that –" I began. Then I stopped. It sounded like such a dumb thing to ask.

"Yes?"

"Could-I-have-that-kind-of-calendar-as-a-present-again?" I said it all in a rush. "I just really liked it. The drawings and all. You know."

Jareth smiled, and squeezed my shoulders with his hands. "Of course you may. I will create it myself."

"Except –" I remembered something. "Sarah can't know about it. I remember – she said I would never get one again."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, well – I think so." I frowned. "It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Hmm." Jareth's smile had gone.

I really didn't want to lose the calendar, so I hurried on: "It was a long time ago. Maybe she won't mind, now. We don't have to tell her, or anything."

Then I was relieved, because he laughed. "Well said!" Jareth drummed his fingers on my shoulders, and straightened back up. He lifted one hand in farewell, smiling. "We'll keep it a secret, just for us. Promise me that."

"O.K.," I said – but the light was shimmering, sparkling, and then the door closed in a flash, and he was gone.

"I promise," I said, to an empty room.

That helped make the rest of sixth grade better, and the start of seventh, too. I kept my promises. I asked Mom if I could help her be less stressed. I wrote Dad a card for Father's Day, and asked him if we could do more things together.

I even did something really hard, one day. I asked Mom and Dad if we could all sit down, and I told them that I had heard Mom yelling at Sarah on the phone, two years ago. I said that I knew they thought Sarah had pushed me, that one winter's night … and that that wasn't what had happened. Then I tried to tell as much of the truth as I could, without bringing Jareth into it. I told them that I had heard something and had been scared, and that Sarah had gone to see what was outside. Then I had run after her, and had fallen down the stairs.

Mom looked pale and her lips trembled. "But what about the calendar?"

"Sarah dropped it in the snow, and I couldn't find it afterwards." I chose my next words carefully. "I guess the physical hurt and my, um, emotional hurt got all mixed up in my head."

"Well," Dad said, gruffly, "You were only six."

"Yeah." Then I took a deep breath. "So can Sarah come home for Christmas? I miss her."

"Of course she can," Mom said. She started to cry and Dad hugged her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Dad said; and then, "No, I'm so sorry," I said – and we all had to laugh a bit, because it was a total sorry party, or something. Dad said that he would call Sarah, and he did, that same night. They all made plans for Christmas. I knew it would be the best Christmas we'd had for a long time.

* * *

And it  _was_  an awesome Christmas. Except there was one really weird thing that happened. Mom said it was part of growing up, but I wasn't quite sure.

My Advent calendar came on the last day of November. It appeared on my dresser, and I hid it deep in my underwear drawer before anyone could see it. The three doors I knew were there! One that was made of mother-of-pearl (I knew what it was, now), one of red and gold, and one of a starry blue sky. Opening them made me smile each time.

Sarah came home for Christmas and it was great. We talked a lot and she taught me how to cross-country ski. If she noticed that I was a bit of a blimp, she didn't say anything. Skiing left me out of breath, but she said that if I practiced, I'd keep up with her next year.

It was getting closer and closer to Christmas – I was getting really nervous, because there were only a few doors left on the calendar. On the twenty-second, though, after we had come home from my choir concert and all gone to bed, Jareth came back.

This door was all different sorts of green leaves and branches, twining together, rippling up and down and then parting in the middle so he could step through. It was really cool – but it was always cool, and I told him so. We jumped right into the Labyrinth; the whole time I was telling him all about seventh grade being better, and how I had kept my promises to everybody. Mom and Dad were feeling happy, Sarah was at home visiting, and they had even hinted that I might get a dog or cat.

Jareth listened to it all, smiling. "Well done," he said. "I would expect nothing less from a Prince of the Labyrinth."

"You keep saying that," I said. "I'm not a prince of anything."

"Toby," he replied, serious, "I am a king – and if I say you are a prince … then you  _are_  a prince!" He flourished his cloak, bowing.

"But have you ever seen a prince who looks like me?" I felt myself flushing. "I mean, like all fat and stuff?"

"I'd say 'powerful,' rather." Jareth shrugged. "And who cares how you look? True princes, and true kings, emanate true virtue from within themselves." He drummed his fingers on the medallion that always hung around his neck, and rolled his eyes skyward. I had to laugh.

"But you don't sound as though you believe me." Jareth looked at me, thoughtful. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. Girls, maybe, and what they say." And man, I must have been as red as a tomato.

His laughter pealed around the Labyrinth's walls. "The age-old trouble! Ah, Toby, Toby – who cares for what women want, or think, or say? Become a King, and you don't have to consult them on anything!"

"You don't?" I frowned.

Jareth grinned at me. "No. You just take what you want to take."

"Um." I felt kind of weird, in my stomach. "Uh, Jareth, we learned about No Means No, in health class, and – well, that doesn't sound right."

"Ah, perhaps not. I have lived so long, you understand, that occasionally I forget to change with the times."

I didn't understand, but I just kept walking by his side. I didn't want to talk about girls any more, so I changed the subject.

"I just hate that I can't run, in gym class."

"You cannot run?" Jareth's voice flew up, just like his eyebrows. "Surely you can run."

"Well, I mean I can – I just never get very far."

"That's different altogether, young man. I find that running far, and running fast, is just a matter of … practice."

"Practice?"

"Like this." He grinned at me, and curled his gloved fingers into claws. "Run!"

I knew he was joking, and I laughed as I ran away from him. He was really fast, though; I mean like ultra-fast, and he caught me almost before I knew it. I told him there was no hope of me catching him, so he said he would chase me again. We did that a few times, until I couldn't breathe at all. Then we stopped to rest.

Sometimes life isn't fair, you know? I was gasping and wheezing, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. I told him so; he laughed and tossed his hair away from his face. "Practice, Prince Toby, that's all it takes."

"Yeah, O.K." I leaned back against a wall. "I'll practice. Nobody needs to watch – there's a park right by my house."

"That doesn't sound like a place many go," he agreed.

Before I knew it, Jareth said our time was up. We went back to my room – and it was weird, because I was so tired from running that I almost fell asleep before he left.

"Farewell, Toby," he said. I saw his silhouette against the glowing green of the Advent door. "We'll meet again next year. And perhaps we'll run."

I fell asleep.

* * *

But that's not the end of it – though I figure that the weird thing that happened must have been a dream, because Jareth had gone.

I dreamt that I really had to pee, so I got up. I was walking to the bathroom, kind of slow like you do in a dream – and I heard a whisper.

It was the kind of whisper that snaked around your ears, and licked at them, like with Melampus in my mythology book.

It must have been the same kind, because I understood what was being whispered. I don't remember all the words, though. I just remember them all being – wanting. Like no sort of wanting I had ever felt before, not even when I was really hungry or thirsty. Want, want, want.  _I want, I want –_

_I want you – I want you –_

I tried to cover my ears. My arms were heavy in my dream, though. I turned round and round, looking for the whisper. There was nothing – I turned – nothing again – I turned a third time –

And I saw a dark shadow, a big one, right outside Sarah's door.

This made me feel kind of weird, in my stomach. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. I dreamt that I saw the shadow ripple, and unfold, and that it was Jareth. Jareth, with his arms stretched above his head, two long and skinny shadows, as he whispered against the panels of the door. He was moving against the door, all slithery. The whispery want said something more:

_Come here – come out – I promise I won't hurt you –_

Then I dreamt that he slithered down to whisper into the keyhole – and then he started sliding up the door again, and took off his gloves and smoothed his hands against the wood, and he licked the doorknob – which was just really weird and gross. And he kept whispering, whispering.

_I want you – I want you – Come to me – I want you –_

I tried to say something; I felt all hot and cold, at the same time. Jareth pressed his bare hands against the door, and then he scratched at the wood a bit, and the _scritch-crrrk_  of it made me gasp – and his eyes flashed as he looked at me.

He was still whispering. I saw his mouth, all curled back from his teeth.

And the whisper said, "You're dreaming, Toby. It's time to wake up."

And Jareth's fingers  _scrrrrrrritch_ -ed into fists, and then flew out, and a light flashed in front of my eyes, and I heard Sarah screaming.

* * *

I woke up; my heart was hammering, and the sheets of my bed were all tangled.

I don't want to talk about the rest. I'll just say that Mom said it was part of growing up, and it was seriously embarrassing.

I didn't tell anyone about the dream.

It was weird, though. At breakfast, Mom teased Sarah about all the coffee she drank – "Some things never change!" Sarah looked really pale, and had dark circles under her eyes.

On Christmas Eve day, Sarah took me with her to run errands for Mom. We stopped at the hobby shop on the way home. It would have been seriously lame, except they had a bunch of books about how to draw animals. I bought one of those, and Sarah bought some paints.

And then, on Christmas day, she painted something really pretty – like ribbons all scrolling together in silver and in blue – all around her doorframe. She said it was a kind of treat for herself, for Christmas. Mom sighed but had to admit that it "was gorgeous," and "Where did you learn to do that, Sarah?" Sarah said art class.

I thought back to the drawings for my dorky little Advent calendar, which Jareth had kept, and I was a bit jealous – until Sarah said she'd do my doorframe, too. So it all turned out completely fine in the end.


	4. III

I thought a lot about what Sarah had done, over the rest of the winter. I mean, skiing was kind of fun, really. The idea of being able to fly past her over the snow-covered golf course where we had gone in December … I liked that idea.

Also, Jareth had said that we would run again. I had to be ready for that.

That's why for the rest of seventh grade and starting in eighth, I started running in the park and around my block. I would get up pretty early to do it so nobody would see, at least at first. Then it got less and less difficult (although, don't take me wrong, the first month was _awful_ ), so I switched to the afternoons. Jareth was right: it was all about practice.

You'd think that I'd lose like fifty pounds overnight and become, I don't know, Justin Timberlake or something. Nope. I actually put on  _more_  weight, which was totally unfair. The doctor looked really stumped but said it might be muscle.

I didn't really care. I just wanted to show Jareth how far I could run, and Sarah how fast I could ski, this next winter. And I wanted to get into eighth grade Honors English. I got in the habit of touching a bit of the design Sarah painted on my door frame, for good luck – but maybe I should have touched more of it, or the one around her door as well, because only two-thirds of my wish came true. I got into Honors English, no prob, but  _then_ there was a warm front and it didn't snow at all for the first two weeks of December. Mom said I could ski next year – and it turned out Sarah was off to Europe with Bill, anyway.

It was a bit of a bummer, all around, but I still felt better than I had a few years ago. The calendar appeared on my desk the last night of November. I found the four doors I knew – mother-of-pearl, red and gold, starry blue, green leaves – and lay awake in bed, wondering when he would come back.

When Jareth  _did_  come back, he scared the hell out of me.

(Yeah, the swear jar, but being a teenager came some few  _privileges_ , like a later  _curfew_  – I wished – and I thought cursing should be one of them.)

Anyway, I don't think he meant to scare me personally. I couldn't figure it out.

I woke up to the shimmering light that would always be magical, no matter how many times it unrolled down my wall. This door was all the colors of the rising sun, getting brighter and brighter yellow and orange and red all together, until I had to cover my eyes.

When I opened them, there was Jareth,  _glaring_  at me.

It made me want to run under the bed and hide. Even when I quick looked over my shoulder and realized he was staring at the door of my room, I was freaking out. I thought for one wild minute that he knew about that weird dream I had about him whispering (which I had almost managed to forget, thank you  _very_  much) … but, seriously, my  _door_?

He looked like he wanted to chop it up with an axe, or kill it, or something.

I said, "Hey –" but my voice cracked big-time, which made me want to crawl under the bed even more.

Jareth's eyes flickered. He shook his head a bit, and smiled, but it looked like it was wrong, somehow. "Ah, Toby. My apologies; I was … distracted." His eyes went around the corners of the room,  _flick, flick, flick_. "How are you?"

"I'm O.K." I drew my knees up to my chest. "What's going on?"

He shrugged, and magic'd up some crystals. "Nothing," he said, low, except his hands were moving all stiff and jerky, which was not normal. Then he dropped a crystal; it shattered and he said something long and snarly, and I don't know if magical Kings have swear jars, but that must've been a dollar at  _least_.

"Wow. What does  _that_  mean?"

Jareth was looking at the floor, his face like white stone. "It's from a dead language."

"Like Latin." This visit wasn't really going like the others had; I felt kind of uneasy, but remembered what Mom had told me.  _With trouble talking, remember three "F's" – family, friends, feelings_ ,  _ **not**_ _finances –_

"Your family all right?" I wanted to kick myself as soon as I had spoken, because –

Jareth snorted. "I have no family."

"Oh, sorry – I thought you might have had a rough day, maybe, and I – um – just wanted to – say something?"

"Ah." He made the other crystals vanish. Then he sank down onto my desk chair, and looked a bit tired. "My apologies, young Toby. Forgive me?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"No worries." I got out of bed. "I've wanted to show you my running  _forever_  – I think I've gotten a lot better at it."

Jareth slapped his gloved hands on his knees, and stood back up. "Let us go, then, you and I."

We went through the door together, to the Labyrinth. I had left my sneakers on in bed every day of December, to be ready for my visit.

* * *

The next year I got even better at running, except I had to take more breaks. The thing is: I started getting taller and taller. The ache in my shins actually made it hard to sleep and harder to run. But I tried to swim at Dad's health club instead, once in a while. When Sarah came home for December and saw how much I'd grown she faked a fainting fit. Then she grinned and hugged me tight.

I was glad to see her smile. From what she had said on the phone, at different times, things had been a bit rough for her – especially with her nasty break-up. So she took some personal leave from work and came home for all of December, not just Christmas.

I overheard her and Mom talking, one night, when I was supposed to be finishing my World Lit homework in the dining room. Sarah said she and Bill were over because he wanted kids and she didn't.

"At least," she said, quiet, "not yet."

"But honey, why on earth  _not_?" my mom said, all dramatic; seriously, she sounded like someone from a soap opera. "You would make a wonderful mother."

Sarah laughed a tight little laugh. "I don't think so."

"Oh, Sarah, that was a long time ago–"

"No, not that. I just mean …" she sighed. "I just don't want kids right now. It's not a good time."

"And Bill can't wait?"

Silence. Then: "I guess not."

I couldn't help but think there was more too it, but it could have been because my mom isn't exactly the Queen of Subtle. I'd bet ten bucks she wanted a grandkid – well, a step-grandkid – to dress up and show off to the neighbors. Just as well Sarah wasn't going along with it, because there's no way I wanted to be Uncle Toby in only ninth grade.

* * *

About a week before Christmas, Jareth strode through a door of shimmering green and blue light – like a door from Atlantis shining underwater. This year I had tried to guess when he would come. I had thought back over his other visits, and I realized that there was no real pattern to the dates. I don't think there had ever been the same one, twice, but the familiar doors – five of them, now: pearl, red-and-gold, starry sky, green leaves, sunrise – jumped all over the place on the calendar so I couldn't be sure.

"It's never number twenty-four, though," I told him, climbing up one of the Labyrinth's walls. "Why not?"

Jareth hissed under his breath, adjusted his handhold, then hoisted himself up and slid onto the top of the wall in one smooth motion. Not fair.

"That door is a special one." As he dusted off his gloves, he spoke. "It signifies the end of Advent – that ancient time of expectation – with the arrival of a promised child, a long-expected visitor, that which makes Christmas Eve silent night, holy night, et cetera." He smiled, lopsided, down to where I craned my neck to see him. "That door would be the last door for me personally. Though if you don't want me to return –"

"No!" I scuffled my feet around to find one last sticking-out rock and then scrambled to the top in a rush. "No, seriously – this is awesome. It gets better every year."

I was looking out over the Labyrinth, all silver and magic in the moonlight. It was so cool that it made my throat close up. I coughed, pretending to have breathed in some dust.

"Come, Toby." Jareth uncoiled to his feet. His hair shone silver-white, just like the moon. "I want to show you something."

We walked on top of the walls. He had a way of singing under his breath, timing the ups and downs of his voice to the ring of his metal-capped boots on the stone – and the walls must have been listening, because they moved round and round to meet him. I had learned, long ago, not to watch when they did that – I'd get seasick.

"Here." He stepped down from the wall – only about a foot – and I blinked. We had walked what looked like miles in three minutes. The Labyrinth ran up against the side of a hill, here.

"Where are we going?" I took a step down, carefully, and followed him.

"There." His cloak billowed out as he pointed.

And if the Labyrinth looked cool in the moonlight, that forest looked even cooler.

If I had been by myself, I might have been scared – yeah, I'll admit it, even in ninth grade. But Jareth was with me. We walked up the hill towards the forest, walking in the shadow of these huge pine trees. The shadows were twisting blue and grey in the moonlight. For a second I thought they were whispering something, but it was only the wind.

I thought it was weird that it was night in the Labyrinth, for the first time I ever remembered. I told Jareth so.

"Time runs differently, here," he said. We had reached the edge of the forest. Jareth touched one of the tree trunks lightly; his cloak fluttered.

"'Different' how?"

"I rule the Labyrinth." Jareth gave me a tight-lipped smile. "And in the Labyrinth, time obeys its king."

"Um." I looked past him, into the darkness of the woods. "Cool, I guess." Then I remembered. "And speaking of running, Jareth …"

"Yes?"

"Can we?"

"Certainly. I'll give you a head start, shall I?" He stretched his arms out in front of him and rolled his shoulders. The cloak rippled. I looked at him, then back to the forest.

"We're running in –  _there_?"

"Why not?"

"I'd trip over something in like five seconds." I was exasperated. "I don't know if you've noticed, but not all people can see in the dark like you can."

Cause he really could see in the dark. Another one of those not-fair things. It had once happened in my room; I thought someone was coming and turned off the light and his eyes went all weird and reflect-y, like a cat's.

His eyes were normal when I turned back to look at him again. Then, though, he tipped his head a bit, rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms again and there was this  _really_ weird crunching and crackling sound. His cloak rippled a lot this time, like he was readjusting his skeleton beneath it – and it was kind of awesome but also kind of gross.

" _Dude_ ," I said, staring. "Are you double-jointed?" Sam Ferkis at school was double-jointed; he could bend one thumb back to touch his wrist.

"Ah," Jareth smiled. "Nothing so interesting, I'm afraid." He twisted one gloved hand and held up a crystal. "Should you like to see in the dark, Toby?"

My mouth dropped open. "You can do that?"

"I can do many things." He flipped the crystal back and forth. "Should you wish to run faster and farther, here in the Labyrinth – to say nothing of seeing in the dark. All you have to do is wish."

"Yes!" My voice squeaked; I didn't care. "All of that! I want to see in the dark and run as fast as you –"

Jareth laughed. "None will ever run as fast as I – but you might run a close second. Here." He stepped close to me. "Be still."

I held still.

"And it would help if you were to close your eyes."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I got goosebumps when I felt a cold-hot-tingle – which must have been magic – slide from the top of my head down my body to my toes. It was like "Concentrate," when someone chants "crack an egg upon your head and let the yolk drip down" – only  _magic_ , which was just – it was just –

"Can I open them now?"

"Yes." I could hear the smile in Jareth's voice. "Open."

I did. And it was like nothing had  _ever_ been, ever in my life. Seeing-eye puzzles, the 3-D stuff at IMAX – it was so much better than those. Even though it was so dark outside, I could see the trees, and see all the bushes that would have tripped me when I ran – I could see heat coming off my hand when I held it up to look at it.

Then I turned to look at Jareth, to say thank you – and I could see his eyes, watching me. I saw every detail of his face in the moonlight, and I saw the magic pouring off him like water, and wrapping all around him like a cloak of fire.

"This is the best present I've  _ever_ gotten," I said. It was hard to talk; my throat was closing up and my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. It was because I was emotional.

Jareth inclined his head. "A small price to pay, for your presence beside me."

I hoped he hadn't used too much magic, because in the US a present like this would have cost a million dollars and have been invented by the CIA. I felt my throat close even further, thinking that a king would pay anything to have me here.

"But now …" Jareth's head snapped back up and his eyes glittered at me. "Run, Toby. Run fast."

I turned and ran. I didn't trip; I didn't fall. Instead I ran faster than I ever had before, and jumped over things like I had super powers. I could hear everything in the forest: the needles on the pine trees, the crackling of leaves beneath my feet and the little noises of animals in the underbrush. I heard Jareth running behind me, too – and he sounded happy when he laughed – as happy as I was.

I was so happy. That was the best gift of all.

* * *

Afterwards, when Jareth undid whatever magic he had done, I was really tired – so tired I could hardly walk. I didn't mind when he picked me up to carry me. It felt like something my dad would have done, a long time ago.

Before I knew it, we were back in my room. He laid me down on my bed and pulled the covers over me.

"Don't go," I mumbled, grabbing his arm – but I blinked awake a bit when I heard him  _tsk_. "What is it?"

"Your wrist." He sounded a bit mad.

I fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Sure enough – there was a scrape that went up a bit into my hand. "Oh – sorry. I'll just get some Neosporin –"

"I did not mean for any hurt to come to you."

"Dude," I said. "It's nothing – it'll heal fast."

"Well," Jareth said, almost to himself. "This will help it heal faster."

He placed two fingers on my wrist. I felt a  _zip_ and tingle – and then I saw some faint white lines there instead of the scrape.

"Thanks." I smiled up at him, then flopped back and turned the light off. "Thanks for everything, Jareth."

"Sleep well, Tobias." His whisper came out of the dark. "You will see me again in a year."

* * *

I felt happy all through Christmas and the start of January. One morning after New Year's I walked downstairs and stole some coffee (my mom said it'd stunt my growth, but the way I was getting taller it might be a good idea.) I was slurping at my cereal so loud that I hardly heard Sarah come in. I heard her dump her suitcase in the corner, though.

"Hey," she said, opening a cupboard door.

I tried, "Morning," but my mouth was full.

"I don't know if I can even bear the sight of you eating. I feel like I ought to warn the villagers about Godzilla." Sarah sat down with some granola and a bowl and spoon. "Pass the milk."

I reached out to grab the milk, gave it to her and went back to eating, with – "Rrragh!" – just to show that Godzilla had feelings, too.

Then I said, "Pass it back when you're done?"

She didn't say anything. I looked up at her.

She was still holding the milk carton, and staring at my hand. Her face was the same grey as the sky outside.

"What's up?" I said.

"Toby …" She looked into my eyes; her own were huge. "What happened to your wrist?"

"I scraped it."

" _When_  did you scrape it?"

Now I was beginning to be a bit weirded out. She couldn't know anything about – me going to the Labyrinth. Could she? She had better not. It was my secret, and Jareth's.

"A while ago," I shrugged. "I don't remember."

Sarah was quiet for a long time. I tried to make a bit more noise eating cereal, but I could hear the clock ticking, which only ever happened when Mom and Dad had fought before dinner.

Then she whispered: "Toby …"

I swallowed. "What?" and looked at her, out of the corner of my eye.

She tried to say something. It took her a while, but finally I heard it, low and soft. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

I shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"Is there something," she spoke carefully, "that – that you're keeping a secret from me?"

I didn't want to tell her. I loved her, too – and I didn't want her to worry after we'd all had such a nice Christmas. So I said, "Nope."

She sat there for a long time, watching me, until Dad came to take her suitcase and drive her to the airport. Then she said, "Wait a second," and went to the office. She came back with a piece of paper and a pen, and a fierce look in her eyes.

And she made a drawing, right there, of the lines on my wrist. She wouldn't even budge when Dad groused about artists and griped about being late for his nine o'clock meeting. It didn't take her long before she threw the pen down on the table, folded up the paper, and said to me,

"We'll talk about this later."


	5. IV

That June I took Debbie Applebaum to the freshman dance. I almost didn't have the nerve to ask her, but she was in the  _Star Wars_  club at school and I was getting taller instead of wider – and she seemed to like me, which was kind of cool. We had a good time. Neither of us liked the dance part (Jason and the goons were there, just like Cindy and the cheerleaders for her) so we ended up going bowling with some other people who didn't like to dance either.

I started tenth grade. My English teachers were making noise about me taking a class or two at the local community college, but I wanted to keep on with the clubs at school and the scheduling wouldn't work out. I wanted to try out for track, too.

I would have given a lot of money for a picture of Mom and Dad's faces when I told them I would run track that year. Like they were having a contest to see whose jaw could drop lower. Coach Kowalksi wanted me to try shot-put but said that we should  _definitely_ hold off on steeplechase until maybe I stopped growing. That was code for how I was still kind of clumsy … but I felt fine, because I could run really fast now.

I knew I had Jareth to thank for it. I thought of him a lot that fall. I remembered running through the forest with him, leaping over the bushes and low-lying branches … That was why I wanted to try steeplechase. I wanted to get that feeling of flying again.

I thought about what Sarah was doing with that drawing, too. But then I thought there was no sense  _really_ worrying about it until she came back in the winter.

* * *

When she did come back, though … well. It wasn't fun. We had a really big fight.

Here's what happened.

She came home looking seriously antsy, but she waited until Mom and Dad had gone out to dinner with friends, one night in mid December. She hadn't even unpacked her suitcase. I was antsy too, because Jareth hadn't come yet – I was running through the doors in my mind. Mother-of-pearl, red and gold, starry blue, green leaves, sunrise, underwater castle …

Then Sarah interrupted, with – "Toby!" – in her 'do not mess with me, shit is about to go  _down_ ' voice.

I almost dropped my book;  _Myths and Folktales of the World_ , now the fourth one. "What?"

She stood in front of my chair with her arms crossed and her eyes flashing. "Let me see your wrist."

"Why?" I started, but she grabbed it. I was too surprised to yank it back. She stared at the lines, which were faded a bit but still visible.

" _Damn_ it." Her grip hurt. "God  _damn_ him."

"Uh, who, Sarah?"

" _Jareth_ , that's who!"

I froze.

"The Goblin King, who rules the Labyrinth."

Oh, shit – total 'deer in headlights' moment.

"Don't tell me you don't know who I'm talking about, Toby!  _When_ did he come here?"

"What the hell, Sarah?"

"Do you have any idea of what he's doing?" She fumbled in her pocket, pulled out a square of paper and shoved it beneath my nose. "Do you know what that  _thing_ on your wrist means?"

I stared at the drawing on the paper as she kept yelling. "It means  _ownership_ , Toby. That is like a personal 'Property of Whoever the hell writes it' stamp. Now  _when_ did he put it on you?"

"It's not like that! He only helped heal my wrist!"

That was my first mistake.

Sarah crumpled the paper and let it fall on the floor. "Right. He  _was_ here."

"No he wasn't – he only –"

" _When_ was he here, Toby?"

"Last year," I muttered, defeated. "He came to visit."

Sarah was watching me, narrowly. "And that's it?"

"Yeah." I grasped at straws. "We just talked."

"So how did you hurt your wrist?"

"I fell." Then I got a moment of nasty inspiration. "Like when I fell down the stairs, when I was six, Sarah. Remember that?"

Sarah let out a puff of breath like I had punched her. Then she took a few steps back and sank into a chair.

I was really mad, so I kept going. That was my second mistake.

"Oh wait, you don't remember that because you kind of didn't  _notice_  when it happened."

"It wasn't like that ..."

"Yeah? What was going on, then? How do you not fucking  _notice_  your brother falling down a flight of stairs when you've just gone out to look at the pretty snow?" I watched her go paler and then aimed a low blow. "Were you on drugs or something? Is that why they kicked you out, too?"

" _Toby_ ," Sarah choked. "I was trying to  _protect_ you."

"Protect me? From what?"

"From – from Jareth."

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. "Why would you need do that?"

Then I remembered my lie from earlier and tried to cover my tracks. "I mean, even if he had come here when I was six, which he totally didn't."

It was like Sarah hadn't heard me. She was looking at her hands in her lap. Then she reached up and pushed her long hair away from her face, behind her ears.

"I … Toby, I … I met Jareth once."

"You mean when I was six? Like then? Or –"

"Earlier. Much earlier. I'm not surprised you don't remember. You were just a baby."

"So?" Part of me was curious but a bigger part was angry –  _really_ angry. Jareth was my secret –  _mine_.

Sarah looked off to the side. "It's so strange, to talk to someone who'll believe me. For the longest time … I thought I could never say anything. To anyone."

Then Sarah took my hands and looked into my eyes. "Toby – you have to understand. I think Jareth has wanted to kidnap you since you were little. For some reason – whatever reason," she stuttered, "he wants to take you to the Labyrinth."

 _I've_ _ **been**_ _to the Labyrinth_ , I thought. "So?"

"…  _So?_ " Sarah's voice skirled up. "So, leaving this world forever to go be turned into a  _goblin_  is  **not** a good thing, Toby!"

He wouldn't do  _any_ of that. I hadn't seen a goblin for years. Besides, I knew him better than Sarah did. So I said, "Don't you think you're being a bit – _dramatic_ – Sarah?"

She had always hated it when Mom had called her dramatic, so it wasn't any surprise to me to see her flush up and blink really hard. "You have no idea what I've done, to keep you safe." She stood up and her voice got louder. "If you had  _any_ idea of what I've done, you wouldn't be talking to me like this, you –"

"Hey, Sarah." I kept my voice calm. "Did I ever ask you to protect me?"

And that did it. That was my third mistake.

The flush drained away from her face, as she stared down at me.

"No."

I almost couldn't hear her.

"No, I guess you didn't."

She turned and left the room.

I was too stunned by that whole fight to register the sounds – but then I heard the door - _thump-_  shut. I called to her and ran upstairs to her room to look, but her suitcase was gone.

Sarah must have hailed a cab down by the drugstore, because when I looked outside for her, I couldn't find her anywhere.

The next day Mom and Dad said what a shame it was that work called Sarah back. But they sounded a little happy about it too, like  _Our Sarah is_ _ **so**_ _important at her work_. I went upstairs and faked sick; it wasn't that hard, because I felt sick. I felt worse than I had in a while.

* * *

So when Jareth came to me that night I almost cried, I was so glad to see him.

The door appeared in a  _flash_  and with a - _whoomph-_ of noise that made me gasp. It was bright and sparkling like a diamond. I felt I could cut myself by looking at it.

He twirled the metal-crystal-whatever-it-was up and aside with one finger and stepped into my room, grinning all the while – until he saw me. Then his grin faded.

"Why, Tobias ... Whatever is the matter?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Stuff. Life."

His eyes were intent on mine. I had never really cared that they didn't match, but for some reason I wondered what had made them that way … And then I wondered if he really had met Sarah when I was a baby, and I felt a wave of sick jealousy wash through my stomach.

"Surely there is only one cure for the doldrums of adolescence. Shall we run?" His voice was light but his grip on my hand was strong as he walked with me through the door.

* * *

I was quiet for a long time, even when Jareth did that thing with the magic and I was able to run far and fast through the woods. That much running and leaping helped me feel a bit better. Then he reversed the spell and set a tiny fire to burning in an overgrown circle of rocks. We sat down together. Well, he sat down. I kind of fell down.

"So, young Toby …" Jareth's voice was low. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared at the fire. "Will you tell me what the matter is?"

"Well," and then I felt my eyes start to sting as the whole argument with Sarah came pouring out. It didn't take a long time to repeat – it sure had felt longer when it was happening. Jareth didn't say anything. He just listened, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

"And then she left, and now I feel like  _shit_. I mean, except for visiting here with you – that always makes me feel better. But I just – I don't know – did you actually meet her, Jareth? Were  _you_ guys friends? Has she come back to the Labyrinth, too?" I heard my voice crack on that last bit, but I didn't care.

"No …" Jareth's voice was almost too low to hear. "No. She has never returned here."

 _Good_ , I thought. "But you knew her once?"

Jareth didn't say anything for a long time. I listened to the snapping and - _pop-_ of the fire.

"Ah, Tobias." It sounded like he had to scrape the words up from somewhere deep inside. "Toby – your sister once came to the Labyrinth. She fell into a piece of magic that brought her here. And when she was here, I …" He paused. "I thought she might be persuaded to stay."

I felt a big lump in my throat. "Oh."

"Say rather, 'Oh, no' – for that is what she said." Jareth's laugh was cold. "Sarah would not be a princess, any more than she would have a moment of time for a world outside herself. She said 'no' and returned to your world." He paused again. "Truth be told, I had no idea the magic would work to bring me to you in turn. Perhaps it is something about your family."

 _My family_ , I thought to myself. Sarah was only half in my family, so that didn't really make sense. But Jareth had once said he didn't have a family … so maybe …

"A princess ... And you called me a prince."

The fire crackled between us. "Yes," Jareth said.

"Why?"

"Toby." He sounded tired. "I think you know why."

I bit my lip. Then I said, "You once told me that you never had a family. Is that why you call children, or teenagers or whatever, to you? To get a family?"

His lips twisted. "Well spoken."

I frowned. Something still seemed wrong. I was still curious. "What  _are_ you, exactly?"

"I?" Jareth closed his eyes. "I am the Goblin King, Lord of the Labyrinth, the King of Dreams –"

"Yeah, I know all that, but –"

He kept going. "But who am I, truly? I am not completely certain. Perhaps I am a ghost. Perhaps I am an hallucination. Perhaps I am mad. Perhaps I am a monster in the middle of a maze, one that has searched through time for seven young men and seven young women – to take them to myself in proper tribute. Or perhaps …"

I waited. "… Perhaps?"

Jareth opened his eyes and stared at me. "Perhaps I am one who was locked in his own labyrinth, and who never found any means of escape. Perhaps I tried for far too long. And perhaps … perhaps, Toby, my son tried to fly out of our prison on a day when the sun was high – and flew too high, and fell to his death before I could rescue him."

I didn't say anything. I stared right back at him.

Jareth's mouth twisted. "And perhaps I've been looking for a son, or a daughter, to name a Prince or Princess of the Labyrinth, so I can then crown a new King or Queen and lay my own life down. I have lived far, far too long."

"Don't say that." My eyes watered; I knew it wasn't smoke from the fire. "Please – don't."

"Very well." He smiled, but his eyes were still serious. "Know this, Tobias. Whatever anyone says to you, whether it is Sarah," her name hissed between his teeth, "or anyone else – you are a prince here. And if you choose, I will name you Prince of the Labyrinth. And  _that_  is a gift that no mortal has ever been given."

We were quiet for a long time. Then I tried to speak. "Um." I swallowed. "Wow." I sneaked a look at Jareth; he was watching me, intent.

I poked at the fire with a stick. "Do I need to decide right now?"

"No. Surely not." He drew his cloak close around himself. "But I would ask that you decide before too many years pass."

"Not that many," I said, confident. "How about my last year of high school?"

"That might be too soon –"

"Nah." I grinned at him. "I could tell people it was a special spring internship, or something."

Jareth smiled back at me. "Very well. And now …" he tipped his head, "I must return you to your home." He stretched. "Help an old man to his feet, will you?"

I leaped to my feet and helped him up. We covered the fire and walked back through the forest. And I woke up the next day with a secret that made all the other secrets in my life look small.

* * *

That secret made the next year pass really quickly. School was great. I kept on growing taller – my mom said it was getting a bit ridiculous, really, and where had that come from in the family tree? I also started going out with Debbie Applebaum. We had some good times and some not-so-good, because – what do you know? – it turns out girls are kind of complicated.

I bet Sarah could have told me that. But I hadn't heard from Sarah since the previous December.

Oh, I overheard plenty of Mom and Dad's conversations about her. Sometimes they'd talk like I wasn't even in the room. They worried that Sarah was working too hard, that she'd never find a husband, that she was too sad after breaking up with Bill, or Greg, or whoever she had broken up with, and on and on.

Through it all, I kept my secret close to myself. It was like a magical door that I could carry around with me 24/7.

The real door was still amazing when it appeared early in December. This one unfolded like a rose on my wall – except it was the deepest, darkest purple. When I saw it shimmer and bloom into straight lines and angles, I couldn't help but think of kings and queens, and all who might have worn purple through history. That showed I was probably focusing too much on Ancient Greece and Rome in school, but oh well.

Jareth opened the rose-door and walked right through with his head held high. I wished that he was wearing a crown.

"Hey!" I jumped up from my desk.

He threw out his hands and swirled his cloak into a fancy bow. "My greetings to you, Tobias."

I felt my face split in a grin. "Will I have to know how to do that if I'm a prince?"

Jareth grinned back. "That, and a thousand other things. Come along."

* * *

We ran in the forest, just as we had in so many years past. I hardly noticed the magic on me at all, now. It helped that I didn't talk much – just ran and jumped like it was what I had been born to do.

Then we had a fire. I had crammed some marshmallows into the pockets of my jeans – I was glad to see they hadn't been vaporized by the trip to the Labyrinth, or gotten evaporated because of some magical Prime Directive or something. Jareth tried one, eyebrow raised, and then I snickered at his expression as he spat it out.

"It is no laughing matter, Toby," he said with dignity. "I cannot be blamed if a sweetmeat disagrees with me."

"Funny; I didn't hear it talk." I made a rim-shot noise; he sighed and threw the rest of the marshmallow into the fire.

Then he got up, grimacing. "Even I have to eat occasionally. And it is unfortunate that this is one of those times, Toby – I had not intended to have it take from our time together."

The magic from before, the fire's heat and the sugar were all combining to make me sleepy. "It's O.K. Go get a sandwich from the castle and I'll take a nap."

"You will be safe, I assure you." Jareth smiled down at me, gathering his pale feathered cloak around himself. "My Forest Prince."

I hardly heard his last words.

* * *

But I started awake with a yelp when I heard a scream.

I looked around, wildly. Surely the noise had been some animal – it had been really high and shrill, and then cut off all of a sudden.

The fire had died down to embers. It was chilly and getting colder. And I couldn't see a single thing past the first tree or two. I squinted up at the sky. The moon was full; clouds scudded in front of it like they were running away from something.

"I could use a bit of that night vision now," I said aloud, trying to work up my courage. I was perfectly safe. Jareth had said I would be …

"Jareth?" I called.

The woods were silent except for the wind, which was whistling through branches high up in the trees.

"Jareth!"

No answer.

All of a sudden I was afraid. Really, mind-bogglingly afraid – like I was perched at the top of a steep staircase or getting ready to duck beneath dark water at midnight.

" _Jareth!_ " I admit it: I screamed. A bit. Just enough to work out my emotions. Debbie did primal screaming when she went to her mom's drama class and she said it was really helpful to –

A branch snapped close by.

I jumped up and whirled around. Then I squinted, because in the darkness of the woods I saw something glimmering.

"Toby?"

Relief hit me hard – it was Jareth's voice.

"What is it?" the voice continued. He was coming closer.

"Nothing really – I just was kind of worried that you had gotten eaten by a bear or someth –" The words dried up in my throat as I saw him. He was limping a bit. I noticed that he was breathing hard and that there was sweat on his brow.

And then, on the pale tunic beneath his cloak, I saw a lot of blood.

"Are you all right?"

Jareth leaned against a tree, then looked at me quizzically. And then he looked down, hissed, and pulled his cloak tightly shut.

"Don't  _do_ that, Jareth – if you're hurt, I want to –"

"Toby." His voice was rough around the edges. Kind of rasping. "I am in no way hurt."

"But I saw all that blood!"

All was quiet … but then my skin prickled as I heard Jareth laughing under his breath, in the darkness.

"My dear boy – my fine feathered …" He tipped his head back and it lolled against the tree trunk. Then he spread his cloak wide open. "Ah, Toby. None of this blood is mine."

I blinked once, twice, and then I started to feel queasy. "Um. So then – whose is it?"

He shrugged, smiling at me. He looked almost drunk. "A fine and faithful forest creature, whose body has been lain to rest in the leaves – and who joins his friends in the sky –" Jareth flung up one hand in a gesture at a star glittering high above us –

– I saw blood spatter on his face. My stomach lurched.

"Ah." Jareth brought his hand back down, close to his face – then his mouth. And then he started to  _eat_ whatever he was holding, and it was all bloody.

I had a choice – talk or hyperventilate – and I wanted to show I wasn't afraid. "Didn't your mom ever tell you not to play with your food?"

He laughed. "No one ever tells me  _anything_ , Toby, that I have not already heard. For instance, a wise old man once said that I should honor the spirits of those animals hunted – and I do, as I have said." He took another bite; I heard the  _crunch_ of gristle. "I place them in the sky for their sacrifice, or for their devotion …" Then he grinned at me. "Or for being exceptionally delicious."

"Yeah, O.K." I felt faint. "I think I want to go home now."

Jareth's brow furrowed. "But Toby, you've only just –"

"Really."

He looked at me, considering. Then he shrugged. "Very well."

On the way back, I tried to lengthen my stride without him noticing. Once or twice I thought he was about to say something, but he didn't. The next thing I knew we were back in my room – and if I thought the blood looked bad in the darkened forest, it was nothing compared to how it looked, smeared on Jareth, in the light of my bedside lamp.

"So." I avoided his eyes and sat down on my bed. "Um. Thanks."

"Tobias."

His voice was serious.

"Look at me."

I dragged my eyes to his face. It was pale with a flush on the cheekbones and – my stomach roiled again – a smear of blood on his jaw. I looked up into his eyes, reluctant. They were shadowy.

"Even I have to eat occasionally, young prince." Jareth raised his chin. "And you must know that the Labyrinth is not all sunshine and pastures. There are dark places in it, just as there are in the human mind and heart."

"Yeah, but dark places aren't always what's for dinner." I didn't know what to say, and Mom says I have stupid jokes as a default mechanism –

Jareth twitched his lips into a smile. Then he reached within his cloak, and oh  _shit_ he still had some of whatever-it-was left. He took another nibble, while looking at me. My skin crawled.

"Do you want to know  _what_ is for dinner, as you put it, young prince?"

I just stared at him.

"This," and he lifted up his hand, "is a heart. If you eat the heart of any creature, you receive part of its spirit – its strength – its power." Jareth's eyes flashed. "You must know this, if you are to be prince in the Labyrinth."

"Will I –" I had to focus on not throwing up.  _Don't throw up. Don't throw up._  "Will I have to eat hearts, if I'm a prince?"

Jareth held out the remnants of the heart. "Aren't you the slightest bit curious … to know how it tastes?"

I told myself later that this had been like a dream. So it was just a dream when I stared back at him, when I wavered and when I reached out and took a piece that he tore off for me. I brought it to my mouth; tried to chew without thinking.

It tasted weird. Mostly like blood.

Then the thought hit me and I choked, swallowing. "Jareth – wait – what kind of animal  _was_ that? I don't want to – I didn't –"

"Shh." He tucked the remnants back in his cloak and caressed my hair with one hand. "It was only a deer."

"Why a deer?" I was falling asleep.

Jareth's eyes glittered in the lamplight. They were the last thing I saw, awake.

"Why, my dear? Why, for the pleasure of the chase, of course."

* * *

I woke up the next morning and hoped it had all been a dream. Then I went to the bathroom and saw the blood in my hair.

I took a shower. Then I took another, shaking under the hot water.

And then I called Sarah.


	6. V

The worst feeling in the world is when something you thought would take ten minutes, max, turns out to take months and months.

I left message after message for Sarah. I emailed her and wrote snail-mail. Everything had the same general gist:  _Hi, Sarah. I'm really sorry for what I said to you when we last talked. I didn't really mean it. Could you please get in touch with me? Something has happened that freaked me out – it involves that one guy that we both know. Please get back to me. I miss you. I love you._

But she didn't get back to me.

It didn't help that I was having nightmares every week, too. Like clockwork. Vivid, gory and scream-filled clockwork.

I asked my parents where Sarah had gone. Dad had no idea and was grumpy about it; Mom wasn't quite sure either and was worried. So Mom got on the scent, like a bloodhound, and I concentrated on AP Chemistry in the spring, on helping run a track camp during the summer, and on trying not to panic every single day of it all.

So when Sarah actually called in August, all the stress and fear in me overflowed and I fucking cried like I was a first-grader again.

"Why didn't you get back to me?" I wailed. I heard her trying to make soothing noises over the phone. It didn't quite work, because the signal was awful. Her voice crackled and fizzed.

"I only just got back myself, Toby."

"But where were you?"

A pause, then: "Places where I shouldn't have been. Doing things I probably shouldn't have been doing."

"I emailed you!"

"There was no email there."

"Where the hell is there no email on this planet Sarah? They get email in fucking Antarctica!"

"Watch your language!" And there was my older sister again. "Toby – do you think I would wait on this? Don't you think I would've replied within seconds when I read all –" I heard a  _click, click, click_  – "one-hundred fifty-two of your emails?"

"OK," I snuffled. "OK. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, buddy – I'm sorry too. We need to talk about this. I don't know what Jareth pulled, but it sounds like you're a mess –"

"A hot mess, but yeah. Get your hot, hot mess, coming through –"

"God, when did you grow up to be such a smartass? Listen –" and the phone crackled.

"What?" I yelled.

"– come home after Thanksgiving. It's as soon as I can. There are things I have to do –" and it must have been the phone, because she couldn't have said 'Underground' – "but I'll come right to you after I'm done. I promise."

"Thanks … but – what do I do in the meantime?" I hated sounding whiny but – you know, you discover that your lifelong mentor has a heart-eating habit? You get some leeway.

"Go to school. Apply to college." Sarah sounded grim. "Nail something iron above your windows – and you know the thing I painted on your doorframe?"

"Yeah."

"Give it another coat."

I felt a bit better – enough to joke, "Any color you had in mind?"

"You goof." A pause, and then: "I'll see you really soon, bud. I love you."

"I love you too." And then I hung up.

* * *

Doing what Sarah had said helped me – at least I kept busy, even if I still felt a clench of fear in my stomach whenever I thought about Jareth. I focused on AP Senior Literature. I went on lots of dates with Debbie, who thought I was just stressed about college applications. The only time I really relaxed was when I painted over the scrollwork on my doorframe.

The days marched past. I stayed home for Halloween, picked Yeats for a final essay topic and applied to a slew of Ivies and safeties. And then it was Thanksgiving, and I counted down the days until the best day of the year, when Sarah came home less than a week later.

It was November thirtieth.

* * *

I didn't even let her put her suitcase down before I gave her a big hug.

"Oooof!" She shoved at me. "When did you turn into Godzilla for real?"

I had to laugh, giddy with relief to see her. "You know, I don't even remember."

"Well, let me make some tea and then let's talk shop."

"Crazy supernatural shop?"

"You know it."

I shoved my books to one side of the kitchen table and watched Sarah make tea. It hit me that I hadn't seen her for two years. She was thinner, and I could see a few silver hairs in the black. And  _that_ was crazy, because she wasn't even thirty yet. At least, I didn't think so.

There were lines around her eyes that hadn't been there two years ago, either; they caught my attention when she smiled at me. And Sarah did smile, broadly, bringing over two steaming mugs. She had made peppermint for me - my favorite.

"You remembered," I said.

"Well, yeah." She sat down. "You still stealing coffee?"

"I don't steal it anymore – I mainline it."

"Yikes." Sarah smiled at me, then tipped her head to look at my books. "What's all this?"

I stacked the books to make more room. "Yeats. It's a final paper."

"What about?"

"Oh I don't know." I slumped down on the table. "How much of a weirdo he is. I mean, do you think he ever actually saw swans having sex?"

Sarah coughed on her tea. I hastily added, "Not that I'm writing about that, or anything. Really."

"You wouldn't be the first. Do they still have that old chestnut in the anthology?"

"Which?" I grabbed my book.

" _Leda and the Swan_." Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Ring any bells?"

"Uh …" I was thumbing through the pages.

"Did you even read it yet?"

"Um."

Sarah snorted. "You're writing a paper on it and you haven't read it. You, of all people. Toby Williams, King of Mythology."

I swatted at her and she spilled tea all over her shirt. "Shit – wait a sec." She ran for a towel. I listened to her cursing with half my attention, and read the poem with the other half.

Then I waited until she sat back down, to say: "Yeah, well. Thesis proven."

"What's that?"

I slammed the book shut. "Yeats was a real perv."

Sarah smiled. "And again, you're not the first to say it."

A comfy silence stretched between us. It felt like it was filled with every breakfast and dinner we had had at this table. All the times she had bitched at me and I had gargled my orange juice at her. It was a good feeling.

Then she reached out and took my hand. "So. What happened?"

I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened, that night in the forest. Right down to the last sinew-munching detail. I felt my gorge rise, talking, but Sarah was calm as she listened to it all.

When I was done with the story she put down her tea. "Now let me see your wrist."

I held it out obediently. She traced the skin of my hand with one of her fingers, being careful not to touch the white lines.

"They're faded," she said quietly, "but still there. It doesn't surprise me." She looked up, and her eyes glowed. "It's a signifier."

"Yeah, you're gonna have to dumb that down a shade." I was glad to see her smile.

"There are three kinds of runes. Outlay, inlay and signifier. An outlay works magic on others, an inlay works on yourself and signifiers – well, they just say something. Communicate something. I don't know. This one's pretty simple. But it's powerful – and any rune takes power to inscribe. How did he … um, how did you get this one again?"

I thought back to that night – three years ago, now. "He touched my wrist. Not very long, and I just heard this kinda fizzy noise. And then there it was."

Sarah shut her eyes tight. "You have  _got_ to be kidding me."

"Nope." I was puzzled. "Why?"

She shuddered. "You don't just do something like that with – with a touch, Toby. It's not supposed to work that way."

I stared at her. "How the hell do you know all this, anyway?"

Sarah got up to put her tea mug in the sink. Then she looked back at me, her arms crossed. "Research."

"Just research?"

"Yeah."

"Sarah, 'research' is what I do for a term paper. 'Research' doesn't involve learning magic runes, or how to paint them on doorframes," I saw her bite her lip, but I kept going, "or learning just how these crazy supernatural dudes use magic."

"OK, so I went abroad a bit." She sat back down. "I've traveled all over the world, stayed in places I shouldn't have been, done things –"

"– you shouldn't have done,' yeah. But why?"

"I –"

I watched, astonished, as she folded her arms even tighter across her chest, and hunched her shoulders. "I wanted to figure out how to stop him."

"Stop Jareth?" I saw her blink at the name. "From doing what?"

"From taking you away, Toby." She gestured at my wrist. "Even though that mark is a bit faded, it'll never disappear. It's not something casual. And he's not just anybody, in the world – or worlds – that aren't this one. He's really, really powerful … and he's been doing this for a really long time. And I thought I could keep you safe, but I'm just not sure anymore –"

"Sarah." I reached out and took her hand in one of mine. It was a faint surprise, to see how small her hands were, and to feel the delicate finger bones in them. "You said that, when we fought … you said that you had done something to protect me."

She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Sarah." I squeezed her hand. "Big Sis. What did you do?"

"Oh –" She sighed, all ragged and gasping, and then I saw her start to cry. Really hard, though without any noise.

"Oh, honey. Oh, Toby – I promised to give him my firstborn child."

* * *

For a long moment, all I could do was stare at her.

Then I opened my mouth. "Holy. Shit."

"Language," she tried, while crying, but I kept going.

"Nope. This time is bad language time. That – that  _bastard_." Forget about mentoring; forget about magic. To make my sister ... "He made you promise that?"

"He didn't make me do anything. I made a bargain with him." She wiped tears off her face. "It was the night you fell down the stairs. I caught him in your room – you remember the baseball bat? You asked if we were going to play?"

That memory was there all right. "Sarah –" and my throat really hurt, saying it. "Why would you make a bargain like that? Why would you do that for me?"

"Because I love you."

I started crying, then, and she reached out to hug me.

"You love me that much?"

"Yeah, I do."

We sat there for what seemed like a really long time. I heard the clock ticking behind me, but just barely. Finally, Sarah gave me a hard squeeze and pushed me back a bit.

"So," she said. "Now you know." She gave me a watery smile.

"And so that's why you broke it off with Bill –"

"And Greg, and then I stopped trying. I figure: no kids, no firstborn child."

"Couldn't you place a personal ad – Single White Female seeks Non-smoking Non-crazy-magic Single Male – no kids, ever, no substitutions, exchanges, or refunds?"

"What can I say?" She finished mopping off her face with her sleeve. "These dudes just want to knock me up. It's ridiculous – I mean, it can't be my sparkling personality."

"Nope," I said, my face serious. "It's your boobs."

"Oh, you jackass," and she mock-punched me.

"But seriously, Sarah," I downed the rest of my tea and got up to put my own mug in the sink. "He can't get away with that. He can't say like, 'Give me your baby or your brother joins Sergeant Jareth's Tasty Hearts Club Band.'" I gripped the edge of the sink. "… What can we do, to stop him?"

"Well, I have a few ideas." She got up to stand beside me. "I read up on a lot of things, and I think I have a way to take off that rune. That's only the first step, though. Getting him out of this place permanently is going to take a lot more than I know."

"Maybe we can do it together."

She tightened her lips. "I want to keep you safe."

"Yeah, and I want you to be happy."

"Well." Sarah looked up at me. "We can talk about that later. First off: you never brought anything to the Labyrinth, did you?"

I shook my head. "Just marshmallows, once, but I ate them all."

"And did he bring anything here?"

"Nothing that I know of – oh, wait. Shit!"

"What is it?"

I clocked myself in the forehead. "The Advent calendars. They came in the mail when I was little – remember?"

" _Hell_  yes I remember," she muttered.

"Well, I got a few more since then." Seeing her look ready to explode, I added, "I just keep them in a drawer. We can get rid of them, no problem."

We started up the stairs. "What way do you think would be best? I mean, you threw that one outside, I remember."

Sarah sounded a little out of breath. "I'm not sure. Maybe burning them?"

"Sounds good." I walked down the hall, and then remembered the images of my visits, behind – I counted mentally – eight of those little paper doors, by now. Shit. It would all come out, sooner or later – all my visits – so it might as well be sooner.

I opened the door to my room, working up my courage to speak back over my shoulder to Sarah. "Sarah – there's something I should tell you –"

But she was staring, and a horrible noise had come out of her throat.

I wheeled back around.

And there, resplendent in black, stood the Goblin King – in front of a door of chased and embossed gold.

"Yes, my young prince," he said, smiling. "Why don't you tell her everything?"


	7. VI

I reached with my arm and pushed Sarah behind me. "Get out."

Jareth tilted his head, still smiling. "Noble and ignoble at the same time. Chivalry and inhospitality, hand in hand. Why such strong words for me, Tobias?"

"Didn't you hear me? I said: Get. Out."

The smile had gone. "You know, I don't believe I shall."

"Get out, or I'll –"

"Or you'll what?"

I ran at him, fists swinging – I'd ram him back through that door and to  _hell_ with my wall – but then he flicked the fingers of one hand and I ... stopped.

I don't know how else to describe it. I was frozen in mid-stride, my face locked in a grimace, and Jareth was walking up to me with a look of mild interest.

"Such violence, in one so young.  _Tsk_." He smirked. "I wonder what he means by it?"

I tried to yell – but I couldn't do that, either. Every part of me was completely locked up.

Jareth adjusted one glove. "Well, Sarah?" He lingered over her name. "What do you think he means by it?"

Then he turned to look at her.

I saw a distorted Sarah reflected in the gold of the magical door. I saw her tense and throw one look behind her shoulder –

"No," Jareth breathed. He tipped up his chin – that was it, believe me – and the door to my room slammed shut. I heard the  _-click-_ of a lock.

I heard something scrabbling at the wood of the door, but I only saw Jareth circling me, lips curled in a smile. "My, that does look uncomfortable. So, my young prince …" and he gently pushed my arms down to my sides, tapped my foot in mid-air so it came to rest on the carpet, and eased my back against a wall.

It occurred to me that now I could see everything.

"Dad! Mom!"

"Sarah, I have cast a spell of silence every time I have been in this room – that is to say, eight times. Those two," he made a dismissive gesture in the direction of my parents' bedroom, "wouldn't hear an abduction if their lives depended on it." He paused. "Fortunately, their lives do not depend on it."

I saw Sarah frantically rattling the doorknob. She clawed at the paint on the doorframe, then jerked her fingers back with a yelp.

"For the last time,  _no_." Jareth's voice was icy. "And believe you me: that spell caught my attention when first I saw it. It took me a surprising amount of time to unravel – where  _did_  you come across those runes, Sarah?"

She had turned to face him. I saw that her face was white. "A book."

"A book –" he spat. " _Where_?'

"A rare book library, in – in the palace archives. Under the highest security. In Istanbul."

Jareth looked nonplussed, but only for a minute. "Ah." He grimaced. "Byzantium. I must have forgotten about that one." He paused in thought, then shrugged. "I shall soon remedy that little oversight … but Sarah …"

He took one step toward her and she stepped away. Her back hit the door with a - _thump-_.

"Sarah …" he purred. "You don't look pleased to see me."

"Still a little slow on the social uptick – uptake, Goblin K –"

"Oh, are you trying to insult me?" Jareth's voice was low and sleek. "You seem rather tongue-tied tonight. Why could that be?"

"No, the question is: why have you come here?"

"Why, Sarah, isn't it perfectly obvious? I have come to take back what is mine." He tilted his head towards me. "Since your first-born child is nowhere to be found."

"You  _bastard_ – you can't take him!"

"I think you'll find I very much can."

The Goblin King turned towards where I rested against the wall, still frozen. He narrowed his eyes, and then plucked one, two, three crystals from mid-air and began to cast a spell. At least, I figured that was what he was doing. I could smell the magic in the air, and I could see the color draining from Sarah's face.

"Stop – you can't –"

"All the words in the world will not change the fact that young Toby here has breathed the air of the Labyrinth," he wafted a crystal towards me, "has eaten the food of the Labyrinth," another crystal, "and has been sealed by me, to the Labyrinth." The last crystal floated before my eyes.

They all sparkled into a fall of dust at the same time.

Nothing really happened. I said, "Huh," – oh, except my voice was back. And I somehow felt a lot calmer. Almost as though I had been drugged.

Then I looked closer at Sarah. She was scanning the room frantically, until she met my eyes and ran to my corner.

"Toby?  _Toby?_ "

I watched, a bit bemused, as her hands went right through my body and touched the wall.

"He's more than halfway there, you know." Jareth sounded bored. "There's a reason he looks insubstantial here. All it will take is one closed door," he flicked his eyes at the golden one, "and a Forest Prince in dreams will become a ruler in reality."

"Forest –" Sarah's voice croaked. She coughed to clear her throat. "Forest Prince? Just what the hell does that mean?"

"Ah, Sarah …"

The Goblin King gazed at her, his eyes half shut. "… It means this."

He stretched out one arm along the wall, in front of the door. His black cape unfurled alongside it. He traced the index finger of his free hand along the line of his arm. He flicked all his fingers out …

And sparks and motes of magic began to cascade down, down over his cloak. They painted a beautiful picture – a magical image of a forest, full of animals and brightness during the day. And then the moon rose, and I saw the Forest Prince, antlers on his head, running for joy through the darkened trees.

Then he turned into a deer completely.

And then he was torn apart by a wolf.

I watched it all, feeling detached, and wondering why on earth my sister had started crying.

"It might not happen that way, of course. He runs like the wind now. And  _I_  had to prove myself by flying before the Wild Hunt for many years - and I lived to rule as King. Regardless, he will be a prince - my Forest Prince."

"You monster –"

"Others have called me so - others older and more terrible than you. Even before they imprisoned me." Jareth covered a yawn with his free hand. "But enough of this. Our bargain remains. Do you have your firstborn with you, Sarah Williams?"

She didn't say anything. So the Goblin King screwed up his face and whined, " _Give_  me the child …"

Sarah spat at him; he laughed. "But alas, there is no firstborn here, and thus your brother comes with me. Bid him farewell."

"You have to give me more time – I didn't know this had an expiration date –"

"Your brother was good enough to set it, the visit before last."

"I've promised you a child – I swear to you, I'll keep my promise."

"Bargains, not promises, Sarah. Bargains." A hard note entered his voice. "And since that child has to be born, as per our bargain, I find you have not kept to your word."

"You just love to squeeze all the blood out of every single word, don't you –" Sarah sounded hysterical. "Twist them all, and waltz in and out of my mind like it's your own private goddamned crystal ballroom, you bastard –"

"You flatter me. However, I think you'll find, if you remember correctly, that I did make a small mistake."

Sarah was silent.

Jareth watched her, then continued. "In the wording of this bargain. It leaves you – shall we say – a slight … loophole, perhaps."

I saw my sister straighten her back and face him squarely. "Tell me."

His smile looked familiar. I couldn't place it. And I didn't quite get what he meant, when he replied:

"You tell me, Sarah. Tell me if you wish to hold to this interpretation of our bargain. After all … I only ever agreed – that your firstborn child would be mine."

* * *

For a long moment, I didn't hear anything. And I didn't see them move. The Goblin King had only leaned back, slightly, after he had spoken – as though he wanted a better view of the effect of his words.

My sister was just standing there. Then she shivered all over, like a tree with dry leaves might in the winter. She crossed her arms over her chest, and wouldn't meet Jareth's eyes when he eased himself off the golden door and prowled towards her.

He stopped about a foot away. "Well?"

A muscle twitched in Sarah's jaw.

Jareth sighed, as if put-upon. Then he started walking around her, slowly. The hem of his cloak brushed her ankles.

"Really, Sarah, it's not that complex a proposition. Promise me a child that is mine – in every sense of the word – and your brother goes free."

Silence. He stopped, with a - _click-_  of one boot, right behind her. She flinched.

"Sarah … What say you?"

Sarah drew in a deep breath. Her voice sounded brittle. "I say that firstborn is firstborn, and it isn't born now, so –"

"In this case, I'm sure I would make an exception to that clause." He brushed one gloved hand over her hair; she jerked away from him. "After all, I am also sure that these … matters can take a good deal of time." He leaned closer. "In some cases."

Sarah remained still. The Goblin King smiled a vicious smile and stepped even closer.

I had to wonder why he was just standing there, pressed against her. And then why would he do something as weird as smell her hair? Kind of nuzzling into it, like an animal. And he was brushing her hair to the side, with one hand, and smelling the nape of her neck. Then he licked her, just a bit, and I remembered what he had done in that dream, so that made sense. And my sister choking and trying to get away, and him grabbing both her shoulders from behind and yanking her back, that made sense too. It was very like both of them.

"You're close," he was hissing into Sarah's ear. "So close – I can smell it, I can  _taste_  it on you." He rested his forehead on her hair; I saw silver-gold and black intertwining. The Goblin King did something, pressed against her back, that made her gasp and try to crush his instep with her heel. He roped one arm around her shoulders in front and she froze.

"I can taste it …" He licked down her jaw and touched her pulse with just the tip of his tongue. "Why not try – who knows? Perhaps it would be just that simple. Just once."

Then the Goblin King ran his free hand down from her shoulder to her hip, and coiled his fingers into her jeans, there. He moved his mouth back to her ear.

"Thin," he said, his voice thick. "So thin.  _Too_  thin – a child might be a risk. We might have to wait. Or we might try – once. Perhaps twice. What say you?"

She didn't say anything.

Jareth waited. Then he loosened his arm from around her neck; just enough to turn her face, slightly, so he could look into her eyes.

"Would it truly be so terrible, Sarah?"

I still didn't hear her say anything. But I saw her mouth, "Yes."

Jareth snarled in her face; she struggled to be free. He let go and she almost fell on the floor. "Have it your way."

He strode back to the golden door, his black cloak flaring and his jaw set. Without another word he stripped off a glove and hit the door with one bare hand.

Even feeling as removed as I was, and calm, I had to say "Wow," at the light that exploded through the room. Like a thunderclap might have been, if it were pure gold. When it died down a bit and I could see again, Jareth was standing in front of the door. It looked like he was drawing on it.

He drew or wrote for a few moments, before he spared Sarah a glance. She had backed into a corner and was watching him intently. Jareth narrowed his own eyes and turned back to the door.

One line of writing. He flicked his fingers at the end of it and – just like that – the light in the room got dimmer. I heard Sarah inhale.

Another line, and another flick – and the light dimmed further. Another line – it got darker. And one more – and then the glowing golden door was the only light left.

Jareth's silhouette was dark against the gold. I saw him tilt his head, considering.

"What –" I heard Sarah say. "What are you doing?"

"I should think it obvious. I am closing this door."

"But – Toby –"

" – is already living in my Labyrinth, heart and soul. He received so much  _kindness t_ here ... Therefore will I take the last echo of his body from this mortal world, through here," Jareth stroked the door, "and that will be an end to it." He pitched his voice to carry, but did not turn around. "If you have any goodbyes, I suggest you say them now."

"'Bye, Sarah," I tried to say. My voice was only a whisper. I remembered so many things in this room. She gave me books, she sent me letters, she tucked me in at night and told me that she loved me. She tied me here with her words. But now it was too dark to read them.

"Toby," she murmured. I think she might have been crying. "Toby, I'm so sorry."

The Goblin King hissed in a breath, then exhaled. "Farewell, Sarah Williams." He reached for the latch on the door.

"Jareth," my sister said. "Wait."

I saw his hand pause on the latch.

Sarah had crossed her arms over her chest again. Her lips were a tight line, and her shoulders hunched.

She took a step towards him.

Sarah couldn't see his face; his back was turned to her. But I could see him. And I saw his eyes flare.

Instead, she moistened her lips and spoke again. "The thing is – part of that bargain is – is a child. And – that's only nine months. Isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," he said to the door in an idle voice. "These things can take time."

My sister's teeth were chattering. "Then however long it takes – after – after a child – I mean, after it was born, then the bargain would be done." It was hard to understand her. "Then I could - go?"

"Hmm." Jareth tapped his fingers against the latch. "It sounds to me as though you're adding something that is not in the spirit of our bargain in the first place."

"Jareth –" and she ran towards him and caught hold of his hand, and drew it away from the latch. "Just listen to me."

"I've listened already." He wrested his hand free.

"Please – please listen …"

"Then speak quickly."

She still could not see his eyes. I could. But I could not place their expression.

"Jareth – Goblin King. If I go with you – if I – give you a child … my child – our child. Would you swear to me that you would never, ever do anything to Toby?"

"That is my side of the bargain."

"Or the rest of my family?"

"Extraneous … but, in keeping to the spirit of our bargain – yes."

"And – and after the child is born," she drew in a deep breath, "after I give you my firstborn child – will you let me go?"

Jareth was silent.

Then he turned, to look my sister straight in the eyes, and she shuddered. He saw it; his lips twisted. "That is not in this bargain. And you have nothing left with  _which_  to bargain, Sarah."

She closed her eyes. "I thought I might ask you to give this to me."

He made a noise of contempt.

"Please, Jareth – I'm asking you: will you promise me that, after I give you my firstborn child – your child … that you will let me go?"

"I make bargains, Sarah, not promises."

"I know." She swallowed.

And then she did something that I hadn't thought she would ever do.

She took his bare right hand in hers. He let her take it.

Sarah touched his palm with her fingers and then turned his hand over. She looked at its back. I saw her reach out a finger and trace – something.

Jareth's eyes had followed her every move. They narrowed at the quiet sound of her voice.

"What's this one?"

His own voice was rough. "Power."

She was quiet for a long moment. Then she dragged in a deep breath. "You know, the book said that rune was lost."

Jareth was silent.

I wasn't really curious – I still felt wrapped in a dreamlike calm. But I did feel … something, winding through the haze and plucking at me. If I hadn't been warm and sleepy, I might have felt all of its force. And it might have been terror.

It had something to do with the way he was looking at her, his eyes glittering. The light from the golden door was dying away, but I could still see his face, white as bone in the darkness.

And I saw his sharp teeth flash as she bent her head and kissed his hand.

Sarah remained there just long enough for me to wonder, distantly, why the hell she was acting like that, and then she straightened. She kept his hand pressed between her own.

"Please, Jareth. Will you promise me?"

She placed his hand against the side of her face. I saw his jaw clench, saw him swallow hard, saw his bare thumb brush over her chin.

"After I give you your child … will you promise to let me go?"

He caught the other side of her face with his other hand.

"Give me your promise," Sarah whispered.

The Goblin King's eyes flicked from her own eyes to her mouth, then back. He leaned forward. She let him.

And then I saw my sister shudder as he caught at her mouth with his and kissed her.


	8. VII

I was fading in and out, it's true – somewhere between wakefulness and dreams, between my world and the Labyrinth … And the room was very dark. Still, I could hear enough and see enough to know what happened. My sister had let her arms fall – but the Goblin King had pulled them around his neck, and he had tangled his hands in her hair and was kissing her over and over, again and again, whispering things that I couldn't understand when his mouth was free, whispering them into her mouth in a murmur when they kissed again – and again, until, "… Jareth," she sobbed. "Promise me –  _promise_  me – oh _G_ _od_ –"

He was caressing her hair, smoothing over it like it was something priceless, and then tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones before he kissed her again. "Let all the gods of all the worlds witness it," he breathed. "I promise you."

Then he yanked her head to a better angle and bit her lips – he drew blood. He had  _meant_  to draw blood. My sister cried out, and then again, louder, as he turned them and shoved her up and against the door.

"After – after it's born." Her eyes were wide and desperate in the darkness. "Promise me you'll let me go …"

"Sarah …" His eyes were just as wide, and alight with that look I still couldn't remember. " _My_  Sarah …" He smiled up at her, his teeth jagged and sharp, and then he edged and twisted his way between her legs. I don't know what would make her groan like that, but I saw his smile widen.

Then he leaned forward and rasped into her ear, "Give me the child, Sarah, and the day you do, you may crawl off your blood-soaked childbed and go wherever you wish."

"You _bastard_ ," she choked, shuddering, and I heard this weird guttural sound from his throat as he kissed her again. And again. I hadn't ever really kissed Debbie like that. Oh I mean, sure we had French kissed, but this … I don't know how to describe it.

Maybe it was difficult to find words because I was going farther away. I closed my eyes to think, and I felt like I might open them on someplace completely new any minute. I was a bit curious about where it might be. I still felt removed, though. It didn't even bother me when I heard the sound of cloth being torn.

I opened my eyes again. I couldn't see much. Except I remembered: Debbie was once grumpy for a week because I spilled Coke on her favorite sweater. I can't imagine what she'd do if I tore her shirt off like that. The Goblin King was, though. Tearing my sister's shirt, I mean. Then all of a sudden he shoved himself back off the wall and Sarah almost lost her balance.

I could only hear their breathing.

I saw him staring. "Where …" He drew a hand across his mouth. "Where did you get that?"

"Get what?" Her voice was hoarse.

"That necklace."

"Oh." I saw her try to close her shirt – I could just glimpse a blue-green glint of light outlining her fingers. "It was my mother's."

"Was it?"

My sister bent her head, cupping the jewel on its chain in the palm of one hand. "Yes." She looked back up and fixed her eyes on Jareth. "Aren't you curious about it?"

He took one step forward. Then another. I thought for an instant of a cat, treading silently towards a bird –

The blue-green light reflected in Sarah's eyes. "Here, Jareth." She held out her hand. "Come see."

The Goblin King's eyes were wide – he stretched out one hand –

Sarah sucked in a breath. The sound broke the silence.

Jareth blinked. I saw him frown. "Wait …"

" _Take_ it!" Sarah rushed towards him, brandishing the jewel.

Things slowed down for me and went silent, too. I saw him sidestep her, his cloak flowing around him, and  _shove_ , hastening her charge forward – he lunged behind her as she slammed into the wall opposite the golden door - he seized her wrist with one hand and her hair with the other.

I heard the chain of the necklace break, with a tiny  _–snap-_  … I saw the blue-green light fall to the floor and ricochet under my desk.

After that it was dark again. There was a rushing in my ears. I thought it could be my pulse. I counted the beats for a while, before my hearing came back. Jareth's voice was low and vicious.

" – and to  _think_ I almost fell for it. I wonder why that might be?"

All this next was in flashes. He covered her left hand with the palm of his own and I heard something – _crackle-_  and Sarah screamed.

Another flash: Jareth took his hand away. "Ah. Entrapment. Now how did that come to be there?"

And another flash. Sarah with her back against the wall, her face a tear-streaked fury. Jareth weaving a crystal over his palms, then shaking it out into a shimmering, crystal-flecked … cloth? "You can tell me where the rest are or I can find out myself."

"You have no power over me," she spat. "That spell won't work."

"Shall we find out?" He spread the cloth out wide between his outstretched arms. "Tell me."

My sister glared at him.

"Very well." Jareth wafted the cloth towards her with a wave of his hand.

It got quiet again. I could smell something burning.

* * *

I looked up at the ceiling for a long time. Then I looked across the room at the faint shape of my bed for even longer. My desk was to my right – except when I reached out a hand I couldn't touch it. I kind of wanted to. I had spilled coffee on the blotter earlier that day and I wanted to feel if it had dried.

Maybe if I moved a bit I could find a way to touch it. The drugged calm hadn't quite spread to my limbs, so I could walk. I started.

The weirdest thing was that I was in one place – my room – but at the same time I was walking on top of a wall. I remembered it from when Jareth had first taken me to the forest. But now the forest lay to my back. Even though I could hear it whispering to me, I walked away.

It was harder than it looked. I couldn't move the walls the way the Goblin King could, so eventually I climbed down and walked through the Labyrinth itself. I heard the forest murmuring for me to come back. I chose to go down the branches of the path where the whisper was quieter.

I turned a corner in the Labyrinth, and saw my sister lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Jareth was sitting on the floor, his back against the bedframe, both hands laced around one bent knee. If he tilted his head, he could rest against my sister's hip; if she shifted her hand, she could touch his hair. But neither of them moved.

His voice was quiet. "It amazes me. For them to give you a transport crafted by a direct descendant of Finir himself … Such power – why give it to you, I wonder? …"

I saw Sarah wipe away tears tracking silver down her face. "They promised to help me save Toby."

"And when was that?"

"When – the year after you first returned." She coughed and wiped her nose. "My sophomore year. I saw the story he wrote in kindergarten, on his wall, and I knew you had ... and then they contacted me …"

Jareth was quiet.

"… and they knew you had taken him, and brought him back. You never bring anyone back –"

"Sarah, I brought  _you_  back …"

She went on as if she hadn't heard him. "And they said you were looking for a son, so that you could get out of the Labyrinth, and – and –"

"Destroy them all – yes …" he sighed. "I've waited far too long. But, Sarah, why this? Why equip you as a third-rate saboteur to try to trick me into some sapphire prison, when they could have trained you up as a runewriter or a spellcrafter?" He turned his head to the side. I saw her shiver at the brush of his hair on her skin. "Or as a sorcerer?"

A long pause, then: "I don't know."

The scene vanished into darkness. I kept walking.

* * *

I walked for what seemed like a shorter amount of time – and then I turned another corner of the Labyrinth.

They hadn't moved. The golden light from the door fell on my sister where she lay. It made her hair lighter but turned her skin weird and burnished-looking. She was really pale anyway, so I guess she couldn't help it.

"This had power." Jareth held up the jewel between finger and thumb; it was blackened, and from it dangled two strands of broken chain. "And the runewrit had power, too, overall. The magnifier on your tongue in particular would have required great ability to set. The others …"

And then I saw the Goblin King turn around completely and rest his chin on one hand. "The others were not as complex."

With the other hand he reached out a finger and touched what looked like a scrape, or a burn, on my sister's hip. I saw her flinch away from him.

"Shh …"

She didn't  _-shh-_  though; she kept moving until she had pressed her back against the wall by my bed and pulled my quilt half over herself. "Jareth – I don't want –"

"Oh, I know you don't want …" the Goblin King whispered. "You never intended to go through with it, did you?"

"Goblin King …" I heard her voice, tightly controlled. "How could you delude yourself into thinking I would  _ever_  give a child into your power? For whatever reason?"

Jareth was silent for a long moment. Then he pushed himself off the mattress. I saw the light from the door spark off the ends of his silver-gold hair. My sister pulled the quilt up to her neck.

"So, you have served me false; well and good. False or true, you still made a bargain, Sarah. Do you plan to keep to it?"

No answer.

"It seems to me that we are back where we started. Nothing has truly changed. Except for this."

I saw the Goblin King reach down and touch one of my sister's feet, through the blanket. "Grace. And grace again. Desire –" he moved his hand up her legs "– here, here, here and  _here_. Enticement …" he moved his hand slowly over the blanket, and I don't know why she should gasp, but she did. "Entrapment …" he touched both her hands, "Fortitude," both her shoulders, "Desire once more …" he brushed one finger over her lips. "And the magnifier …" The Goblin King bent over her "… was here."

The scene vanished into darkness. I kept walking.

* * *

I walked and walked. My legs were starting to hurt. I could feel the ground beneath my shoes change from rock into springy soil, but when I stretched out my hand, I still felt a wall. I turned another corner of the Labyrinth.

I saw Jareth kissing my sister – but just barely. It reminded me of when I had first kissed Debbie. We were both so shy that we had just stood there for what felt like five minutes before she had moved closer.

Sarah lay there with her arms rigid at her sides. I saw him draw away, slowly, and look at her. He moved even more slowly to frame her face with his hands.

When he kissed her again, I heard her make a small noise. Like she had something stuck in her throat.

"Shh …" Jareth stroked his fingers over her temples. "You see?" He kissed her again – and I knew that head tilt. It had taken Debbie and me a while to dare do that. We were too worried we would lock braces by accident.

The kiss was longer this time. I saw Sarah close her eyes.

"There … The magnifier was there."

"I know." Sarah kept her eyes shut.

There was silence for a long moment. Then I heard the Goblin King whisper.

"It's not fair, you know."

Her eyes flashed open. " _What?_ "

"It's not fair." With gentle strokes of his thumbs, Jareth brushed away tears that shone on her face. "All of the snares vanquished … all of the runewrit is gone, but … when I look upon you, nothing has changed.

"I want to look at you every day." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I want to take you with me and keep you forever. I have never wanted anything so very,  _very_  desperately as I want you, precious thing."

He didn't sound desperate, though. He sounded reflective, quiet … maybe even happy, a bit. I didn't understand.

Sarah wasn't happy at all. She brought up both her hands and clenched them on her collarbone, ready to shove him off. "I'm not a  _thing,_ Jareth."

"Yes. That I know." He moved one hand down and touched one of her fists. "And I know, Sarah, that I will never underestimate you again."

They were quiet for a long minute. He bent to brush a kiss over her knuckles. I saw my sister trembling.

"But what do you want?" Jareth slowly tilted his brow. "Do you want me to be … gentle with you, perhaps? Like this?" He caressed her hand. "And like this?" He kissed her cheek. "It could prove a novelty, I suppose. What say you?"

"No."

Jareth looked at her for a long moment and then unfolded to his feet. He fished in a pocket, I think, to find something – then he let the blackened jewel drop and, matter-of-fact, brought one heel to bear on it.

I heard a grinding  _-crunch-_.

Then I saw him walking to the golden door. I saw the long line of his back lean and twist as he touched the latch and light flared.

"Wait –" Sarah gasped, pushing herself up in my bed. "Wait – Jar –"

"And here I thought you had forgotten." He looked back at my sister coldly. "Make your choice, Sarah." Jareth slipped off his cloak and let it fall to the floor. "Join me here," he pointed at it, "and leave with me … or sleep in that bed, and stay here safe and sound."

He knelt down on his cloak. His eyes glittered in the dark. "Howsoever you may chose, do so before my patience reaches its end."

He didn't say anything more; just stretched out on his cloak like a cat might in a beam of sunshine. It was so dark, though, in my room ... And the faint golden light of the door didn't remind me of sunlight at all.

The scene vanished into darkness.

* * *

I kept walking.

My feet hurt just as much as my legs. When I stretched out my hands now, I still felt walls. How long would this last?

And how much time did I have left?

"Oh …" My own voice sounded really loud. "That's – that's a really good question." Like in AP Senior Lit.  _That's a really good question, Toby. Anybody want to take a stab at it?_

It felt like the warm haze of magic was wearing off. To be honest I was beginning to get a little worried. Once the walls came to an end and I couldn't hear the forest anymore, how was I going to get home?

"Only one thing to do …"

Even though all of my muscles were like:  _no_ , you do this and we go on  _strike_ , I started running. At least I was warmed up.

And at least I had run with Jareth all these years. If I hadn't, I would never have been able to run like this now.

"All right." I ran, feeling the burn. "Watch out. Here comes Toby. I'm coming back. The return of Toby. Toby's ... advent."

Because my brain was firing, too, and I was remembering Lit and all the stupid words I reviewed for the stupid SAT. _Advent: the coming or arrival, of something especially important ..._  
  
Any time the endorphins kicked in would be great. Or even if that warm magic started up again - but then I was turning another corner of the Labyrinth.

I saw my sister sitting in my bed, head resting on her upturned knees. She had wrapped my quilt around herself. I wasn't sure, but I think she might have been crying.

That image vanished into darkness. I was starting to pick up some real speed so it seemed only an instant before I turned another corner of the Labyrinth.

I saw Sarah standing. My quilt was bright red and orange around her. Her bare feet looked really white where they touched the Goblin King's cloak. She was looking down at him.

I looked too. And this entire night, all of it … all of it it felt even more like a dream.

A long time ago, I had thought that he looked like a hero or a god from my mythology book … but here … Lying on his black cloak, with his eyes shut and his hair spread out, he looked like some sort of enchanted princess. Like the kind you wake up with a kiss. Only he was a guy, so it was … It was just – so  _strange_. Like the whole picture – him fast asleep, all silver and gold on a cloak black as night – belonged in a magic book, and not in my room.

I think Sarah thought it was weird, too. I saw her step away, a few wobbly steps. Then she sat back down on my bed.

The scene vanished into darkness. I kept running as hard as I could. I turned another corner in the Labyrinth.

I saw my sister kneeling. She pulled the quilt closer around herself. Then she lay down, in stages, eyes fixed on Jareth. She looked ready to bolt if he so much as twitched an eyelash.

He didn't, though.

I heard Sarah sigh, all shaky. She scrubbed one hand over her face and reached back, trying to bunch the cloak together into some sort of pillow.

"Here," I heard Jareth whisper. Sarah flinched when he stretched one of his arms, but he just slipped it under her neck, all gentle and quiet. Then he reached out his free hand and clasped it around one of hers.

I heard him sigh in turn. Then his breathing evened out. I think he had gone back to sleep.

Sarah swallowed. It was a loud sound in the dark.

The scene vanished. I was still running – now I had a stitch in my side and I could feel sweat running down my forehead. Everywhere I tried to look, though, I only saw darkness. I tried to run faster.

I turned a corner in the Labyrinth – I saw Jareth and my sister asleep, side-by side. I turned a corner in the Labyrinth – I saw her shiver and move closer to him, as though she was cold. I turned a corner in the Labyrinth – I saw them kissing.

All of these images were silent.

* * *

I turned another corner – and  _there_  –

"Yes!" I heard my voice bounce off walls to my right and my left – but there, coalescing out of the darkness, I saw the faint outline of a door. I ran up to it and touched it. It wasn't bright at all. In fact, it was flickering in and out of my sight, as though it hadn't made up its mind to be real or not.

"No –  _stay here_ , door, you hear me?" I felt around for a doorknob but couldn't find one. "OK. Focus. Come on. Pick a door, any door – what is behind door number one? …"

I knew that I was babbling. It's just that I had run so long, and so far, that I felt I might fall over any minute. I pressed one hand against the door. It felt like it was made of wood. Then I pressed an ear against it – I didn't hear anything except my sister crying out. I tried knocking; that didn't do anything at all.

Then I thought to the way the magic had always worked; back when I was the Forest Prince. I could see things so much more clearly. If only I could do that here …I tried to focus on making that outline real, so I could see it again. Not just an image, not just a memory – a real outline of a real door. Like the one to my room. It always stuck in the summer, when things got humid. It was made of a sort of cheap wood; I had almost broken it, once, when I had slammed it after an argument with my mom. It was the first door I had learned how to unlock.

I closed my eyes, remembering. Jareth had told me how to unlock it.

I don't know what it was about that memory that made things work. It seems a small thing, really. But for whatever reason, I found the doorknob and turned it. I heard a  _–click-_  and felt the door start to swing open.

Then I stopped. Did I really want to go inside? Would my room be there? I wasn't sure.

After all, I could smell something … charred. And I could hear snarling – there could be wild animals there, like in the forest.

If it was my room, though, I knew there would be one of the enchanted Advent doors there, just as I knew that Jareth was there. That my sister was there … But all of those things might have changed. Things could go in the blink of an eye from safe and warm, cocooned in sleep, to frightening and horrible.

It reminded me of a dream I had had once. I had fallen asleep full of marshmallow sugar, and had woken up only after I heard the scream of that deer – really high and shrill and cut off all of a sudden …

I took a step forward, and blinked.

* * *

I wasn't in a forest, or the Labyrinth. I was in my room at home after all. I reached out and touched the door. The wood felt splintery beneath my fingertips.

"Does this mean I'm back?"

My words fell –  _t_ _hump – clunk_  – into the air of my room. The thick, stagnant air – somehow more humid than I remembered. I sniffed. I could smell something burnt, sweat and blood and something else –

"Maybe it's wearing off." Maybe, I thought, I was less 'mindlessly enchanted' now, and more 'tired.' I blinked and turned to look my bed. My quilt was gone, but everything else looked normal.

Then I looked in the middle of the room.

I saw Jareth there. Or at least, I saw his back. He was crouched over something. I heard him panting, which I only remembered from when I had seen him hunt in that dream ...

My stomach lurched. Then I saw that even though his hair was darker than normal, matted with sweat, there was no blood in it. The dream wasn't real ... But still, everything was blurring and clearing, with my heartbeat. I tried to focus my eyes. Maybe I wasn't as un-enchanted as I thought.

One of his hands was planted on the carpet. It looked like it was the only thing holding his weight, so I wondered for a minute why it wasn't trembling. I remembered though; he was really strong. I thought back to all of those times he had lifted me to the top of the Labyrinth's walls, smiling at me ...

I couldn't see if he was smiling or not. His back was to me.

His other hand was clamped over my sister's mouth.

The Goblin King exhaled one long, ragged breath. He leaned in to kiss her – he managed the hinge of her jaw and her cheek before easing himself back – and, indifferent, he let the hand on her mouth fall to one side.

I wasn't sure what I felt, seeing my sister there with him. At least, I think it was Sarah. Her hair was a mess. Then she said something – or tried to - I couldn't understand it – and she pushed at the carpet with her heels and her hands, trying to get away from him. He was whispering to her, though, and I saw him smooth his own hands over her hips -

\- and OK, that was really embarrassing, because I hadn't realized she was  _naked_ , so I looked away fast and focused on my desk. I'd have to check on the blotter in a minute. It felt really humid in my room, so the coffee was probably all damp still - but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

I peeked out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't see my sister anymore, and I still couldn't see Jareth's face. It looked like he was adjusting different pieces of his clothing, unhurried and languid. He shook his hair back, ran a hand through it, caught up his cloak. Then he slung the cloak around himself and uncoiled to his feet in one fluid motion.

"Jareth?" I said. My voice was still really slurred. Weird.

The Goblin King turned, and stared. "Toby!" He shook his head, as though to clear it."I am so very pleased to see you – and to see that you found your way back to this world. I would expect nothing less from you, now ... Very well done."

I didn't understand. And I didn't  _like_ not understanding - I was in all these AP classes, for god's sake, and I still couldn't understand what was going on, but: "Thanks," I said.

"This is where I leave you, my Forest Prince."

"Really?"

"Yes." He tipped his head back; I saw red marks on his throat. "I honestly had not thought I would. But …" he focused back on me. "Something has changed."

"What?"

"Ah …" Jareth's eyes were still so strange: one pale as ice, one black. I knew it was the pupils, but _still_. "That is ... not important. What is important is that ... you would have been a son to me, and that thus you should take from your time in the Labyrinth the strength and wisdom you found there. Take them and remember that you are strong, capable - a fine young man. You would have been a fine prince, Tobias ..."

"Oh."

It was so strange. Shouldn't I feel sad? Jareth was leaving, and I wasn't going to get to be the Forest Prince ...

But I wasn't upset at all. If anything ... I saw the glint in his eyes and remembered him staring, hungrily, in my dream ...

If anything, I could admit that I was relieved.

Now I could live here and not dream about mouthfuls of blood and running, running, endless running. I could focus on getting ready for college and on taking Debbie to the prom. On real-world things. Already the Labyrinth was receding into a dream ... even though my legs really hurt from running. Why had I been running?

And what was going on with the  _magic_ in my room? Everything felt slow ... and even the warm sleepiness was coming back again now. Perhaps it was being so close to the Advent door that did it.

Its golden light pulsed in a way that made me sick to my stomach.

"Live well, Tobias." The Goblin King had stepped forward. I looked down. He was extending a hand. I saw a weird circle on its back – scars as fine as hair crossing over and over and looping around each other in a silvery pattern. I held out my own hand.

He didn't shake it, as I thought he might. Instead, he touched my wrist.

The rune there vanished.

"Live well," he said, gazing at me. "I named you a Prince in the Labyrinth. This shall make you a prince among men. Remember that." Both his eyes blazed. "Live well."

" _Wait –_ " I heard my sister's voice, strangled, and caught a glimpse of my quilt, bright red and yellow, as she broke free from ...  _wait_. How had that ...? I didn't understand. Had she had been hiding behind him or something? Why the hell would she do that?

I saw her try to twist free of him, but he caught hold of her shoulder. I saw his knuckles go white.

"There now." Jareth bent to my sister's ear. "We have a  _bargain_ , Sarah –" he licked at the glossy sweat on her temple and she flinched – "Mind that you keep to it."

Sarah turned her face away. He buried his face in her hair. I saw him kiss her – once, twice. She pushed at him and he pulled her back, clutching her as if he would never let her go. I saw all the tendons on the backs of his hands standing out - stark white against his pale skin.

"My only love, my heart's true mate –  _mine_  –" Then he turned to face me. He was breathing hard. "Make your farewells."

 _Farewells?_  I blinked. Things felt like they were moving fast, all of a sudden. "Um, goodbye?" I said. "Thank you for the Labyrinth. I mean, for my visits."

The Goblin King inclined his head. His eyes flew to my sister's mouth as she wet her lips. "Toby? You're - alive?"

"My love, my only one." Jareth was sliding his hands over her face, tracing her features. He bent to her ear, swift as a bird. "Of course he's alive. I keep to my bargains. Now come along."

"Wait …" I said. My tongue felt thick and my mouth didn't seem to work. "Sarah? Where are you going?"

I caught a brief flash of Jareth's smile as he stepped back against the glowing golden door, holding my sister close. Her face had no color in it at all; her eyes looked like black smudges. She pressed her lips together. They were - was that  _blood_?

"I –" She raised her chin. "Toby - I'll come back to you. I promise."

I almost didn't hear Jareth's reply - he was kissing down her cheekbone and whispering in her ear. I didn't think he meant me to hear it ... just like in that dream I had a long time ago -  _I want you - I want you - I promise I won't hurt you ..._

"You call  _me_  cruel, Sarah?  _You_  ... making a promise you will  _never_  keep ..."

My sister pulled back and stared at him, her jaw set. "We'll see about that."

"Yes." The Goblin King stared right back at her, his eyes gleaming with the door's light. "We certainly shall."

Reaching down with one bare hand, he slid his fingers along until he found the latch. He looked back at me as he lifted it.

And I realized that I recognized that look. The expression that had been in his eyes whenever he had gazed at my sister, through this entire long night. I hadn't been able to place it – I had thought it was a dream.

It wasn't, though.

It was the look the Goblin King had in his eyes, when he ate the deer's heart.

I saw a splash of blood on Jareth's face. I saw the golden door start to shimmer.

"Wait –  _wait_ ," I gasped. "No – Sarah, I don't want you to do this – please, no,  _Sarah_!"

"Toby ..." I saw the tears on her face. "Be happy."

Jareth said nothing. He merely gazed at me, his face suddenly remote and ageless. Then he raised a hand – the one not gripping my sister by her shoulder. He closed the golden light into his fingers, twisted in every flicker and filament of magic from the room around me, and then pulled his hand down to his heart.

And just like that, the golden door, and both of those within it, winked out of existence.

It didn't really hit me for about a minute. I just stared at the wall, numb. Then I said, "No." I walked up to the wall and ran my hands over it. "No – it can't be."

"No," I said. Then: " ** _No_** _!_ " I screamed it so loudly that my parents came running to see what was wrong.

They were of no comfort to me. 


	9. Epilogue

It is difficult to know how to end this story. I had said that a boy was going to tell it to you – he did. The boy that I used to be died on the day his sister disappeared.

And, in an especially artful touch, it seemed afterward that I was the only one who would ever be aware of her existence. Consider: what might that do to a person? What might it do, to know that you are responsible … not for a death of a person in the physical sense, no, but for the death of a life? The death of all the loves, the dreams, the joys and sorrows – and even the jokes – of one unique human being?

How much worse might it be, if it were someone that you love?

My letters were all returned, marked "Address unknown." All of my emails to her disappeared in cyberspace. All of the phone numbers she had ever used had been disconnected. And when I traveled to her city, to find her apartment, I only saw that numbers 436A and 436C, on Willow Street, had swallowed up their mutual neighbor.

What was I to do?

For a while I ran from memory as hard and as fast as I could. I went to a college far from my mother and father. Then I joined the Peace Corps, traveling half a world from my home. Then I threw myself into my work. I tried drinking; I tried denial; I tried introducing myself under a different name to strangers, at baseball games and bars ...

Once I dreamed of strangers. A circle of strangers dressed in what looked like diamonds, with gold reversed in every hem of their robes. They stared sorrowfully at me. One tried to speak - and then I  _felt_  a complete absence of sound. Utter silence. Then the dream shattered like glass and I woke up choking with fear.

I tried not to think of what this might have meant.

I ran and ran, from memory and happiness both, until one day I thought: why? Why would I run from the Goblin King's words, instead of honoring my sister and remembering hers?  _Live well_ , he had said, but:  _Be happy_ , she had said.

And:  _Toby - I'll come back to you. I promise._

What was I to do?

Here is what I did; you may judge me as you see fit. I changed my life. I remembered my sister. I tried to live well, for  _her_ sake. I tried to be kind, generous – a decent person. I contributed to school fundraisers and supported the arts. I had no spouse or children. I directed all my money to charities in my will.

I know. It sounds empty to me, too. I follow the fine traditions of those with more money than they can spend, more time than they can fill ... and far, far fewer memories of their departed than they wish they could have.

Here is one final tradition that I cling to – an old one, a homely one, but one important to me. For you see, every Christmas Eve I bring my chair up to my old room. I set it across from the wall, sit down, and wait.

Why this night? you may ask. And for what reason?

I choose this night because it is when Advent time ends and Christmas begins. When expectation is over and joy takes its place. On the Advent calendars I receive from various friends each year, I always open the twenty-fourth door to find Mary and her infant, together and at peace.

That is why I sit here, watching the wall. I am waiting for a door to appear – an enchanted door opening onto another world. I am waiting and hoping, and will wait and hope as long as I live: that on Christmas Eve one last door will open, one last magical light will shine … and that my sister will return to me, with her child in her arms.


End file.
